The Adulterer Killer
by Kali Neko
Summary: What begins as a case to solve a theft at a local musuem soon leads to a string of murders Not very good summary so I do apologise and also this is my first story, so please be gentle : Beta was the lovely and ever so hard working CraZyPshyChoLady
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock paced the floor of the museum and occasionally threw cold glances at the main entrance. He was not in a good mood. First of all there was no tea in the flat, John had not gone shopping, he had run out of nicotine patches, John had not gone shopping, and then Lestrade had phoned him, promised it was a very good case that he desperately needed Sherlock's help on, turns out John had phoned Lestrade in a fit of desperation as Sherlock was "Driving him up the wall." However the case was nothing spectacular, an ancient relic had gone missing and it was worth immense value, Sherlock already knew who the thief was. To top it all off the people who they were waiting for, one being the thief, were running late.

"Sherlock, will you quit with the pacing! They'll be here shortly," John grabbed hold of Sherlock's shoulder and pushed him down into a nearby chair, Sherlock glared up at John,

"You said that 15 minutes ago and of course they are still not here. I have an experiment to get back to, a very important one." With that he folded his arms and huffed impatiently. With Sherlock pouting away and John starring down at him with his hands on his hips, Donovan was reminded of a parent dealing with a petulant teenager, she wasn't envious of John's role one bit.

"Figuring out the stages of decomposing flesh in different environments is not important, considering the fact you've already completed it!" Sherlock went to interrupt but John cut him off,

"Two months ago! You said yourself that it was a success and that I no longer had to worry about smelling of corpses as you were finished."

Sherlock continued to stare at the floor, muttering under his breath while John marched back Lestrade. The museum had fallen quiet as everybody had given up talking a while ago, despite not approving of Sherlock many would have to agree with him that the waiting was getting tiring. The two members of staff that would be letting them in the vaults below were running over two hours late, many were starting to wonder if they had run off with the relic and if they had all been stitched up, when the two came hurtling through the door.

"I'm so sorry! My car broke down, can't believe I've only had it for a week. We had to wait for the mechanics."

The person who spoke was the female of the two, her speech was slightly slurred. Could be tiredness or perhaps hung over? She was small and slender, probably only just reached about 5' 5". With messy blonde hair snatched back in a bun and no makeup she had obviously been in a rush this morning. Sherlock noted that her boots which would have normally been laced up, had the laces stuffed inside and her t-shirt was too small for her, rising up to show off a toned stomach, before she would pull it down. Yet her nails told a different story, they were beautifully manicured, recently done too, put that with the good condition of her skin and her well toned figure this was someone who took some pride in her appearance. Yet today she was a mess, and knew it too, if the running of her hand through her hair was anything to go by. What interrupted her this morning to spoil her routine?

The man was smiling nervously and was repeating the woman's apologises. He didn't seem sure on what to do with his hands, shoving them into the pockets of his navy jeans, then pulling the hem of his shirt before thrusting them into the pockets of his blazer where he appeared to be messing with a phone. He on the other hand did seem more prepared then she was. Hair styled, shaved this morning too, Sherlock could just see a small cut under the right side of his jaw. Clothes were designer and shoes recently polished; he reckoned if he got closer, Sherlock would be able to see his face in the black leather. This was someone who also took pride in how he looked, perhaps a bit more than the woman. Yet how did a man, who worked in a museum, afford such clothes and shoes?

John motioned with his hand to Sherlock to come closer, he hoped that Sherlock had calmed down enough, if he hadn't there were going to be tears. Sherlock would get extremely blunt when he was annoyed, and nothing made him more annoyed than tardiness.

"Lily Harley and Arthur Morrison?" asked Lestrade. The two nodded and Lily pulled out her ID badge, which she dropped. She bent down to pick it up but very nearly lost her balance. Arthur knelt down and helped her to pick it up before helping her up; he then pulled out his own ID badge. Lestrade gave them a quick glance over before handing them back. Lily once again dropped hers and she hastily picked it up,

"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me this morning. Um, we tried phoning but I must have written the number down wrong," Lily waved a little scrap of paper where a phone number was just visible.

"I gave Arthur my card," Lestrade turned to Arthur, "Did you misplace it?" Arthur blushed furiously,

"I left it in my jeans pocket and I put them in the wash, sorry."

"Well, as fascinating as this story is, could we please get on with it? We have a thief to catch after all." They all turned to face Sherlock who was striding towards them, a look of complete boredom upon his face.

"Yes, of course. Follow me, I'll show you where we were keeping the relic." Lily placed her pass over her neck and pushed her shoulder satchel back into place, "This way."

They followed her though the museum, until they reached a set of double doors which was locked by a code, Lily paused for a couple of minutes before typing in the pin, frowning when the screen flashed red.

"Damn it," she muttered, she tried again, only this time she pressed too many numbers. She rubbed her forehead furiously,

"Arthur, do you mind? I can't seem to concentrate on the numbers." Arthur leaned over and punched in the correct pin. Lily smiled apologetically,

"Sorry, must have had a restless night." She pushed the doors open and led them into one of the many rooms along the corridor.

Lestrade looked around the room, there were papers covering the side counters and photos pinned on the wall, and a lone table lay empty in the middle of the room.

"What's this room used for?" he asked, while watching Sherlock flick through a bunch papers.

"It's where the relic is kept while we document anything significant and take photos of it. Then it will placed into storage till a place can be found for it," explained Arthur, he pointed to a large A3 piece of paper on the wall, "It was going to be one of the main pieces for our Ancient Eras Exhibition that's going to start in July, it would have been the feature from the Egyptian era."

John peered at the poster that Arthur had been pointing at. Somebody had drawn what the exhibition would look like; each entrance was designed to look like a particular building. He could just about see that the Roman part would have taken the look of a Roman villa.

"Who drew this?" he asked. Lily timidly put her hand up,

"I did, I do art has a side project." John gave her a warm smile, trying to put her at ease,

"It's very good."

Sherlock snorted from his side of the room. Everybody jumped, as though they had forgotten he was there.

"What's your problem?" demanded Arthur, "You've been sulking since we brought you down here. Who is he?" he spun around to face Lestrade who was looking slightly annoyed and embarrassed at Sherlock's attitude.

"That is Sherlock Holmes, he's a consulting detective. We call him to help us on particular difficult cases." It was Arthur's turn to snort,

"Consulting detective? Are you taking the piss?"

"Arthur!" scolded Lily, "Don't talk like that. I seriously doubt the Detective would make something up like that. Let them do their job." Arthur gestured frantically at Sherlock, desperately trying to rectify the situation,

"But he snorted at your work, he was insulting you!"

"He has his own opinion, and plus they are not here to admire my work. They are here to find the thief." A tense silence filled the room. Arthur stared in disbelief at Lily who met his gaze with a look of challenge.

John took the decision to end the awkward scene,

"Right," he clapped his hands together, "Why don't we make a start then? Sherlock got any ideas?"

Sherlock leant against the side counter, schooling his expression into a blank look; however a smug grin was quite evident on his face.

"Of course I do. I've known as soon as met as I these two." Donovan looked furious, "What? Why the hell didn't you speak up sooner?"

Sherlock smirked, "Because the climax is only as good as the build up."

"For God's sake Sherlock just tell us, who is it?" asked John.

"You."

Everyone turned to who Sherlock was pointing at. Lily was in complete disbelief.

"Arthur?" She spun back round to face Sherlock, "What the hell makes you think it was Arthur? You've got it all wrong!"

"I assure you I haven't. It will all become very obvious when I point out the facts." He stood up and began circling Arthur, staring down at him like prey,

"When you both came in I noticed that you, Lily, were a complete mess, you obviously haven't done your hair and you put your clothes in a rush hence choosing the t-shirt that was too small for you. However it all didn't seem right, your nails and figure show that you take some level of pride in your appearance or you at least like to look presentable. So what could have caused you to dress like this?"

Lily was pulling her cardigan round her t-shirt, not that it mattered; everybody had seen exactly what Sherlock had pointed out.

"I overslept, my alarm didn't go off, I must have forgotten to set it." Sherlock smiled, stopping in his circling of Arthur, standing at his back,

"Oh I seriously doubt that. Am I right Arthur?" Arthur had gone extremely pale and had not once spoken; it was like fear gripped him by its hand.

"Your alarm did not fail to go off by accident, oh no, it was because Arthur here cancelled it; while you were sleeping. He wanted you to oversleep. So he could make his getaway with the relic and perhaps even place the blame on you. Just long enough so he would be long gone." Lily stared at Arthur,

"Arthur, tell me he's wrong," still Arthur didn't speak; he had averted his eyes and was staring at the floor.

"And it's to my understanding that is not the worst thing that Arthur has done. Lily you come across as the type of person who is a light sleeper, someone who would have woken up if someone came into their room, correct?" Lily nodded slowly, John stepped forward and gently guided her onto a stool; she had gone slightly grey.

"Then how did Arthur sneak into your room last night and turn off your alarm without waking you up?" Sherlock continued, "He drugged you." Arthur slumped into a chair that rested next to him, while Lily went green. John placed a supportive arm around her shoulders.

"Last night you gave me a shot of whiskey, something to settle the nerves you said, I felt really weird, thought it was the alcohol mixing with my medication. Oh god," she placed her heads into her hands, trembling slightly.

Lestrade turned to Donovan,

"See if you can find some water for her, I think I saw a canteen at the end of the corridor," she gave a short nod and left the room.

"Please continue Sherlock." Sherlock continued to stare down at Arthur, who was trying to make himself as small as possible.

"I believe you were drugged as you displayed the symptoms of the drug Flunitrazepam, more commonly known as Rohypnol. Your speech was slightly slurred and your movements slow and uncoordinated. You dropped your pass several times and when it came to entering the pin to unlock the doors, Arthur had to step in, as you were unable to concentrate on the numbers. I'm also guessing the trouble of your car had to do with have your feeling?"

"Yeah, I stupidly put diesel in rather than petrol. I," she stopped suddenly and sat up sharply to look at Arthur, "This morning you insisted we catch the bus, you were the one who passed me the pump at the station! You knew we would be at risk if I were to drive!"

Arthur stood up and tired to make his way over to Lily, but was blocked by John,

"Lily, please! I didn't want you to get hurt. I drugged you because I figured it was the best way. I never wanted you to take the blame. You have to believe me!" Sherlock grabbed hold of Arthur's shoulder and pulled him back into the chair,

"Save it, you knew full well what you were doing. You don't drug someone on impulse. You bought the drugs with the intent on using her as a scapegoat. You're nothing but a lowly criminal; a complete waste of my time. You didn't even steal the relic for something interesting, I'm guessing you have debts to pay off, there's no way someone on your wage could afford designer gear." He leaned in, staring intently at Arthur, barely blinking. "You didn't even take the relic out the museum did you? Lestrade if you check the back of the museum where the rubbish is taken you should find it there," he pulled back, "Like I said, a complete waste of my time."

Arthur exploded, in a split second he had Sherlock on his back and got in a punch before he was pulled off and subdued. Lily had pinned Arthur to the floor, wrenching his right arm behind his arm and twisting it when he tried to struggle. She pushed him further into the floor,

"And you thought those self defence classes would never come in handy. I guess you have to eat your words don't you." Lestrade bent down next to her and cuffed him, before reading out his rights. John helped Lily to her feet, then turned round to Sherlock who was rubbing his cheek,

"You ok? He didn't knock out any teeth?"

"He wishes," Sherlock stood up, slightly shaky but John could see he was alright, "and I had it covered." he added to Lily. Lily simply smiled,

"Of course you did."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock and John watched as Lestrade pushed Arthur into the back of the police car and it drove away.

"How's your cheek feeling?" John asked. Sherlock gingerly removed the ice pack that Lily managed to acquire for him from his face, so John could examine him.

"You'll be fine. She certainly pulled that one out of the bag didn't she?" He motioned to Lily, who was standing with Donovan,

"I suppose she did. Was the relic where I said it was?" he placed the ice pack down on the wall beside him.

"Yeah, Donovan found it in a black gym bag, with Arthur's name on it." Sherlock groaned,

"God, these criminals are getting even more stupid. I can't believe I wasted my time on this."

"You've said that three times already and quit with the complaining, you loved it, you know you did." John gave a little smirk as Sherlock pouted before making a bit of show of storming over to where Lestrade and Donovan were standing with Lily.

"Best get her off to the lab; you'll need a urine sample to prove the drugging,"

"We know that, freak, no need to tell us the obvious." Donovan snapped back. Sherlock looked the picture of complete innocence when the next thing came out of his mouth, "Really? And yet I have to continue to tell you that sleeping with your married colleague is a bad idea?"

Lily choked on her water and Lestrade hastily started patting her on the back, while Donovan glared at Sherlock, who was rocking back and forwards on his feet.

"Where is Anderson by the way? Trying to keep his wife off the scent?"

"Shut the hell up freak!"

"Donovan, Sherlock, that's enough. For god sake we're still working a case here, let's try and keep a level of professionalism here." Lestrade turned back to Lily,

"If you'll come with me, Miss Harley, we need to get a sample as soon as possible." She nodded, gathering up her bag and started to follow Lestrade to the car. She then paused and turned back round, she looked at Sherlock,

"Thank you." He nodded in return and watched as she continued her to the way.

"Don't get your hopes up freak. She's way out of your league," sneered Donovan.

"Then you must be way of mine if your taste in men is anything to go by," he replied coolly. Donovan went to retaliate when Lestrade shouted her. She gave one last dirty look then made her way over to Lestrade.

"So overall a good case then, you solved it, bad guy was caught, relic was found and you managed to insult Donovan," John didn't sound too pleased about this last bit, Sherlock glanced over at him,

"She started it."

John sighed and shook his head, "Home then?"

Lily groaned with slight relief as she sat down on her couch, she didn't want to say anything earlier but tackling Arthur had hurt a lot more than she let on. It didn't help that the day before she had been thrown off her horse, her eyes narrowed slightly, Arthur had been with her that day too, had he had something to do with that? She shook her slightly, no point thinking about it, the past was past. She kicked off her shoes and then made her way to the kitchen. A cup of tea is just what I need she thought, flicking the kettle on. She leant on the counter, her thoughts going back to the events that had transpired only a couple of hours ago. Was it only a few hours ago? She felt like that entire day had gone by. And that man, Sherlock Holmes, how did he figure it all out so quickly? The kettle clicked and she went through the motions. Lily thought that maybe it wasn't the tea itself that calmed people but the sequence of it. It was comfortable, it was predictable, going through motions that you do every day.

She settled back down in the sofa and took her first sip of tea, it was hot, too hot to taste, but then she took another sip and there it was. She gave a satisfied sigh and shuffled herself further into the sofa, bringing her legs up. It was so quiet. Normally Arthur would be complaining that was nothing to eat and Lily would have pointed out that was loads to eat, that he just didn't want to cook. A bit of banter would be thrown and then they would start making dinner together, sharing jokes and what they got up to at work. Lily would tease Arthur about his crush on Alison and Arthur would in turn bring up Lily's awful taste in men. They would both agree that her last one took the cake though. She placed her tea on the small table and lay down on the sofa, pulling her knees up in a foetal position and then she allowed herself to cry. All the events came crashing up and swallowed her whole. She would allow it to consume her, just for tonight, then tomorrow she would heal. In Lily's mind the bad guys never got to win.

Two weeks later found Sherlock and John running through the streets of London after a local drug dealer.

"Come along John! He's getting away!" They dodged cars and people, vaulted over anything that got in their way all in an attempt to get closer. John followed Sherlock's every step, keeping track of where they were as in a couple of minutes John would have fulfil his part of the plan.

"Now John!" John veered off to the left down in a side alley, there were the bins, he put on an extra burst of speed and leapt on the lids and then launched himself up over the wall. He landed on the other side, rolling to soften the impact. He ran to the end of the other alley and waited, just two minutes.

"Luke! You can't run forever!" Now! John leapt out and tackled Luke to the floor.

"Ge' off me! I ain't goin' back! Ya hear!" John dragged Luke to his feet while Sherlock grabbed him the lapels of his jacket,

"Should have thought that before you started selling drugs to kids Luke." In the distance they could hear the sound of police sirens approaching,

"Ah and here come the police, finally. Your lift is waiting for you." Between them they both dragged Luke out of the side road and towards the awaiting police cars.

"They've sent three? For one drug dealer?" John glanced over to Sherlock, "Am I missing something?"

"Of course you have John, you normally do." After ensuring that the dealer was secured in the back of one of the cars, they both turned to where Lestrade stood waiting for them.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you for the past hour. What the hell have you been doing?" he strode towards them, you didn't have to be Sherlock to tell he was stressed.

"Doing your job," Sherlock retorted, "one less drug dealer for you to deal with."

"I'm afraid we've got something bigger to deal with than drug dealers. Arthur Morrison is dead." John and Sherlock exchanged a look,

"I'm guessing not suicide," Sherlock held a hand out for the file that Lestrade held in his hand which he passed to him,

"You would be correct. Luke was being transferred out to another prison, overflow he was supposedly told," Sherlock scoffed in response, "Exactly. He was picked up by two police officers in a van, official papers were shown."

"With the right contacts any official papers can easily be forged," muttered Sherlock, he found the pictures showing Arthur's dead body. "I'm guessing no sign of the two supposed officers," he passed the file over to John who flicked over to the cause of death and started studying the pictures closely.

"None at all. The descriptions given are completely generic, brown hair, brown eyes and camera footage at the prison showed nothing, they knew where the cameras were. We've got nothing,"

"Oh Lestrade, will you ever learn? Get the footage over to mine ASAP. Come along John."


	3. Chapter 3

Lily hastily moved through the museum trying to reach the entrance as quickly as possible without attracting too much attention to herself. Ever since returning to work she had been swarmed by her colleagues, all demanding the details as to what happened and was it true that Arthur had drugged her? She had spent the entirety of her shift dodging the other members of staff and for desperately willing the clock to tick faster. When it struck four she grabbed her belongings, tidied away the desk she was working at and bolted. Lily hoped that as she normally stayed over and worked till late nobody would expect her to leave on time. She only had two yards and there was a clear path to the main doors! Nearly there,

"Lily! Could I have a quick word please?" Damn it. She turned around slowly, fixing a pleasant smile to her face,

"Hello Daniel, is everything ok?" Daniel was her boss and so far he had barely said a word to her since she returned. She had appreciated his distance but now it seemed Daniel had been bitten by the curiosity bug too.

Daniel was nervously running a hand through his hair; he hadn't wanted to bring this up. He had let Lily have her privacy, knowing when if she wanted to talk she would do so when she was good and ready but now this was happening he didn't really have a choice.

"Lily, it's about the events that took place,"

"Daniel, don't take this wrong way, but I'd rather not talk about it, I've been badgered by people nearly all day."

"That wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about, at least not in that sense."

"Oh?" Lily suddenly felt sick, "Oh God, you're going to fire me aren't you?"

"What? No!" Daniel was alarmed and slightly panicked. This wasn't going the way he wanted; he should have invited her to his office first.

Relief coursed through Lily and she let out a breath that she had been holding.

"Thank god, I honestly thought you were going to fire me."

"No, no, you're a great member of the team Lily and we don't blame for you what happened at all. You're the victim in all of this." Lily winced inwardly, she hated being referred to as a victim, she was trying to recover, and she didn't need reminding.

"Would you like to come into my office? It's a bit more private in there." Lily looked longingly towards the doors,

"Would outside be ok? The fresh air would be great."

"Of course."

They both ventured outside and found a quiet spot on the steps away from the crowds.

"Lily, I hope you'll forgive how straight forward this comes out but I believe this is the best thing."

"To be honest I would appreciate it."

"I think you came back to work too early."

Lily nodded slowly,

"Ok, maybe you have a fair point but it was two weeks ago. I'm getting better and I'd prefer to be at work. It keeps my mind off things."

"I'm sure it does Lily, but you came back two days after it happened. That is much too soon,"

"I'm not taking any time off Daniel and that's that." They stared at each slowly, almost like a western showdown thought Daniel.

"Ok, how about a compromise?" Lily raised an eyebrow,

"Go on."

"You will be allowed to continue with your work but you have to do it home."

"That reduces a lot of the work I can do Daniel, I can't take any of the pieces home with me."

"Yes I know that, so I will allow you to return here three times a week, 5 hours at a time." Lily chewed on her lip, thinking it over. It would probably be a good idea; she was planning on moving as she could no longer stay in that house. It had too many memories of Arthur, it was time to make some more without him.

"I'd still get paid for a full weeks work though?"

"Yes, nothing will get cut but you have to do this for at least two weeks, we would prefer four though."

"Ok, you got yourself a deal."

John flicked through his note book,

"I still can't believe you got all this off that footage. It's amazing,"

"As much as I like your appreciation of my work John, perhaps you can leave it for when we have a bigger audience." John shook his head,

"You know for a self proclaimed sociopath you can be such a letdown at times and you're going to start playing the violin again aren't you." And with that the screeching began to fill the flat,

"I know you can play that thing properly!" Sherlock merely started to play louder and erratically.

"I'll phone Lestrade and tell him what you've got then, yeah?" With no reply John went downstairs to phone the detective from the safety and silence of Mrs Hudson's kitchen.

"Sherlock annoyed again hun?" asked Mrs Hudson as she opened her door,

"Yeah, sorry Mrs Hudson."

"Oh don't you worry about it John dear, remember I've known him for a long time. You go make your phone call, and I'll put the kettle on, make us a nice cup of tea."

"You're a star Mrs Hudson, have I ever told you that?"

"Frequently John, but flattery with get you nowhere; remember I'm not your housekeeper." She turned the kettle on and went to sit in her living room as John made the phone call.

"DI Lestrade, how can I help?"

"Hi, it's John."

"John, thank god you've called, been trying to get through to Sherlock," John sat himself down on one of the kitchen chairs,

"He's playing the violin, you would have no chance. I've got those details you wanted."

"Well, tell me when you two get down here; we've just had a message delivered, concerning the case."

"What did it say? How do you know it concerns the case?"

"Just tell Sherlock it says "fancy a new game?"

John moved so fast he knocked over the chair he was sitting on and very nearly collided with Mrs Hudson,

"Good grief John, where's the fire?"

"Sorry Mrs Hudson! No time to explain!" He ran up the stairs and charged through the door. It smacked off the wall with such a loud bang that Sherlock spun around yielding his violin like a weapon, seeing it was John he lowered it again,

"John there is no need for such a dramatic entrance,"

"Sherlock, he's back, Moriarty is back."

* * *

><p>Hope people are enjoying this! But remember reviews mean love!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock hadn't spoken a single word in the taxi ride to New Scotland Yard and John knew better than to try and talk to him. John knew that Sherlock was processing all what John was able to tell him after the phone call with Lestrade. How Moriarty was possible involved in this case, what could his next possible move be and what sort of game was planning now. The taxi pulled up outside the Yard and Sherlock was out before it had even fully come to stop. John quickly passed the fare to the cabbie and took off after Sherlock. They practically ran through the corridors until they reached Lestrade's office.

"Where is it?" Sherlock practically lunged at the letter as Lestrade handed it over. He carefully studied the paper, bohemian like last time, same style of hand writing, on the outside it simply said "concerning the attempted theft of the Egyptian tablet and the death of Arthur Morrison", on the inside it said "Sherlock, fancy a new game?"

Lestrade stood up and made his way to the other side of the desk,

"There's no fingerprints, no DNA, just like the last letter. It certainly explains a lot though."

"Yes, someone wanted the Egyptian tablet, so through a chain of contacts they get in touch with Moriarty, who in turn lists the help of Arthur Morrison. Arthur messes up, so Moriarty has him killed and decides it's the perfect opportunity to start a new game." John and Lestrade couldn't help but to exchange a look, Sherlock sounded a little bit too eager.

"Sherlock," said John warningly,

"I'm fine John. I haven't forgotten what happened at the pool. But come on, you can't deny that you've been thinking about it too?" he spun round to face them, "What he's been up to? What has he been planning? Why come out of the shadows now?"

John rubbed his face wearily, no he couldn't deny it. Despite the fact that the Great Game had been nearly five months ago now, he had spent every single day of those five months thinking about Moriarty, and when he could next strike.

"So what next then? The last time he sent a phone so we could the follow the clues."

Sherlock gave a delicate shrug,

"He'll send one soon, now he knows I've read the letter."

"Right, well then it looks like we'll have to wait. Till then, I have to get in touch with Lily Harley." Lestrade grabbed a file and flicked through till he found her details,

"She still doesn't know about Arthur?" asked John,

"No. I wanted to tell her face to face but if Moriarty is involved the sooner she knows the better."

"We'll go and tell her." declared Sherlock, as John gave him a puzzled look,

"Sherlock I don't think that's really our area."

"Nonsense, plus it would give me the opportunity to look through Arthur's things; they would still be at the flat, no family to collect his things, so it said in his file. Where is the flat?" Before Lestrade could reply, Sherlock had read it off the file,

"Come along John, we've got a game to play," and off he went. Lestrade repressed a groan,

"Make sure you're the one who tells her John, he'll probably blab it out as soon as the poor thing opens the door."

"I'll do my best."

Lily lingered at the doorway of Arthur's bedroom, she hadn't heard from anybody about what to do with his belongings. He had no family which she could send the stuff to do and she hadn't been told whether he was allowed any of his things in prison. To be honest she wanted to leave it all, let the new owners deal with it and take what they wanted. Yet her conscience wouldn't let her, she needed to heal and if doing this would help then she better get started. She rolled her shirt sleeves and took one step when the door bell rang. She let out a sigh of relief,

"Saved by the bell, for now."

She jogged down the stairs and pulled the door open,

"Hello? Oh! It's you two." The shorter of the two, who she was pretty sure called John stuck out a hand,

"Miss Harley, I'm John Watson and this is my colleague Sherlock Holmes, you remember us from the museum?" Lily accepted his hand and gave it a quick shake,

"Yes of course. Is everything ok? I thought the case was cleared?"

"I'm afraid not, could we come in?" Lily stood aside,

"Yeah, sure." The two men entered and she shut the door, "The lounge is just through here. Can I get you two a drink?" Sherlock cut through John and asked for tea, Lily watched slightly bemused as the two men tried to stare each other down.

"It's fine," she assured John, "I could go for a cup of tea anyway."

She led the way through the lounge and into the kitchen. She couldn't help but to notice how Sherlock seemed to look around, it made her feel like he was cataloguing everything he saw. She checked the kettle was filled with water and switched it on.

"So what's going on?"

"Lily, I'm afraid we've got some bad news. I think you ought to take a seat," John pulled out one of the chairs from under the dining table. Lily glanced from him to Sherlock, who hadn't spoken a word since asking for tea. She slowly walked over to the chair and sat down.

"Lily, earlier this morning Arthur was murdered." Lily stared at John, her face barely showed any expression. She swallowed, opened her mouth as though to speak and then closed it again, John waited patiently for her to try again.

"I don't understand, how could this have happened?" John pulled a chair out to sit opposite her,

"You may have heard in the news about overcrowding at the prisons?" Lily nodded, "Well Arthur was being transferred to another prison due to the lack of space, however that wasn't actually the case. Lily it turns out that Arthur was hired by a very dangerous man to steal the relic and because Arthur failed this person had him killed."

"So the transfer was false, a cover up, to get him out of the prison," she whispered,

"Yes, exactly."

The kettle clicked off and a song drifted through the kitchen from the radio. Lily stared mutely at the floor, then shook her head slightly, as though trying to shake a thought loose,

"I'm guessing you want to look through his things?" John and Sherlock shared a quick look,

"Yes, we would, we think that may be a clue on who hired Arthur."

"Upstairs, second door on the right, the first door is our study, his laptop is the one that's closed." She stood up and turned her back on them, busying herself by making tea. Sherlock and John both made their way upstairs,

"She took that better than expected,"

"Yes, makes quite a pleasant change not to have to deal with hysterics and over the top sobbing."

"You know how we talked about things that are a bit not good Sherlock?"

"That would be one of them then?"

"Yes, it would."

They stood at the top of the stairs,

"Bedroom or laptop?" asked John,

"I'll take the bedroom, if the laptop has a password try looking at the notepad next to it,"

"How do you know he's got a notepad? Actually forget I asked,"

"Already did John." Sherlock entered the bedroom while John stepped into the office. A quick glance around showed that it was mainly Arthur that used this room, all of his notes covered the walls and a large desk dominated the room. He glanced over at Lily's laptop and saw that it was on screensaver. He peered over his shoulder to check that Lily hadn't followed them up the stairs. He quickly walked over and pressed a key, already logged on, thank god. He peered closer at the screen, it would seem that Lily was researching on what to do with Arthur's property, she obviously wanted to do it legally. She had a level head on her that one, he thought.

He turned his attention to Arthur's laptop, pulling up a chair, he flipped up the screen and turned it on. While it booted up, he flicked through the notepad that Sherlock had said would be there. Lots of random notes on points in history, some takeaway orders and random sums, could be worth showing Sherlock those. He went to back of the notebook and there was a single word followed by three numbers. He glanced at the laptop screen, it was waiting for a password. He carefully typed in what was written on the pad. It was accepted. John pulled the laptop closer to him and clicked on documents, at least a hundred folders popped up,

"This is going to take a while."

In Arthur's bedroom Sherlock was much more confident on what he was looking for. He went through the motions, perfected over many years of detective work, on finding what was needed. First the second phone and a notebook tapped under the first drawer of his nightstand,

"How unoriginal," he stuck the phone and notebook into his coat pockets and carried on searching the room. He found two CD's hidden under the mattress and an IPod. Sherlock stared down thoughtfully at the IPod and then looked over at a second IPod which lay on the floor next to another bag. He flicked the one on in his hand and flicked through till he found what he was looking for.

"Oh Arthur, you are such a stupid and clever boy." There saved on the IPod were several recordings. Sherlock knew that if he were to press play, he would hear the conversations that Arthur had had concerning the theft and dealings of the Egyptian tablet.

Sherlock knew deep down that Moriarty must have suspected that Arthur had recorded some of their conversations if not all of them. Yet that meant that Moriarty would be sending somebody over to see Lily and they wouldn't be as cordial of he and John had been. He stood up quickly, picked up the other IPod off the floor and pocketed the both of them. Then pulled out his phone, as much as he hated calling in for favours he knew that his brother would handle this situation like it was second nature, which it most likely was.

"Sherlock, if you're phoning me to come and bail you out of a Turkish prison again, it's going to have to wait, I'm waiting for a phone call from South Korea."

"I didn't need bailing out the first time; I had it all under control. I'm phoning because I need your expertise on something." Mycroft chuckled,

"My, my, did it hurt to say that?"

Sherlock scowled,

"Can you provide it or not?"

"Calm down brother dear. Start from the beginning and I will see."

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><p>Evie-Marie87: Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and hope you continue to do :)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock went over the previous events with Mycroft, who listened carefully, jotting down messages which he passed over to Anthea who instantly started tapping away on her blackberry.

"Tell Miss Harley to start packing immediately, just the essentials, my men will ensure the rest of her property will be sent to her new abode. She has 15 minutes." With that the phone call ended, the Holmes brothers never saw much use for goodbyes.

"John!" Sherlock stalked out the bedroom and to the study, where he brought John up to date.

"So Mycroft is moving her to a safe house?" John began unplugging Arthur's laptop while Sherlock grabbed anything else he saw useful, and shoved it all into a rucksack which was hanging on the back of the chair.

"Yes, now go down and inform Lily, we have less than 15 minutes to get her out before Mycroft's men get here."

"Get me out?" John and Sherlock spun round, Lily stood in the door way, holding a tray with two steaming mugs on it.

"Ah! Tea, perfect. Yes Lily, get you out. You are being moved to a safe house," Sherlock grabbed one of the mugs, "Mine I presume?" He took a quick sip, "Hmm, perfect, good guess work." He took another quick sip before once again hurtling round the study, removing whatever he believed may prove as being useful. It was John that once again took hold of the situation,

"Lily, I think it would be best if we went somewhere quiet, so I can explain all of this to you." Lily softly nodded and placed the tray down on the desk, before leading him into her room.

"What did he mean Mr Watson? About getting me out?" They both sat down on her bed and John began to explain. He told Lily that the man who hired Arthur was called James Moriarty, a very dangerous criminal, someone that Sherlock and he have dealt with on a few occasions; one particular occasion nearly ended their lives. They believed that he would be sending men to get belongings of Arthur's just in case Arthur had anything that could point to where Moriarty was or who Moriarty was getting the relic for.

"And there's also a chance that Moriarty believes that Arthur may have told you some things." Lily had listened very closely to what John had to say, and he appreciated that she seemed to be taking this all very seriously.

Yet when a few long minutes had passed and she had not yet spoken a word John grew concerned,

"Lily, I know this may be the wrong question to ask, but are you ok?" She took a deep breath and looked up,

"I'm very drunk right now." John stared at her in disbelief before giving a small, low laugh,

"To be honest I don't blame you."

"Five minutes John!" John stood up and held out a hand,

"Come on, I'll help you sort some things out." Lily took his hand and he pulled her to feet,

"Have you got a large bag you can use for the moment? Don't worry, the rest of your things will be moved by the men," he added hastily. Lily managed to walk over to her wardrobe pulling a large rucksack from beneath a pile of books, it was a brown canvas bag, sturdy and lined with pockets. John took it from her and noted with slight interest that seemed to be lots of messages written in different hands and different languages,

"You've travelled a lot then?"

"Yeah, my work calls for it; archaeology, private dealings, that sort of thing."

"Why don't you tell me what countries you've been to while we pack?" The doorbell rang downstairs, "Quickly I think."

John and Lily managed to pack her bag, while Mycroft's men began packing away her things and Arthur's into separate boxes. Sherlock would occasionally bark orders and snatch away things that he believed were useful. Lily watched in disbelief, as the flat that was once her home was stripped of everything, it was beginning to look like nobody had ever lived here.

"Car's here, we need to go." John had been on watch outside with another guard. Lily had been informed he was assigned to watch her at all times, she couldn't even remember if he'd given a name.

"Right then," Sherlock clapped his hands together, "We'll be in touch Lily, follow the rules and you'll be safe. My brother is even more dangerous than Moriarty." And with that he left the flat, is long black coat swaying behind him. John's departure was a lot gentler,

"We'll come see you really soon. Try not to worry ok?" He gave her a small smile and a reassuring squeeze on her upper right arm and then he too was off.

Lily looked up at the man standing next to her,

"I'm sorry? Did you say something?" He gestured to the door,

"We need to get you into the car Miss Harley," Lily looked out and saw a town car waiting out in the front, it's blacked out windows told Lily she wouldn't be seeing the route to her new home. She gave one last look around her old home, and with her guard's hand on her back, she walked out and into the car. The guard took his place opposite her and tapped on the screen that separated them from the driver. With a smooth pull off they were away. Lily clutched her bag tighter to her chest as though it were a lifesaver, she hoped that if she wished hard enough, she would wake up and realise this was all just a bad dream.

She closed her eyes, counted to three and opened them again. Nothing, she was still in the car, with the guard staring blankly at her.

"Would you like some water Miss Harley?" Without waiting for a reply he pulled out a bottle from the side compartment and handed it over to her. She took a small sip, and when realising how dry her throat was, took a large gulp.

"I'm sorry; I can't remember your name?" It came out in choked whisper, Lily blushed; she must seem like such a child.

"You can call me Mark." Lily repeated the name under her breath; she doubted that was his true name.

"Miss Harley?" She glanced back up at him, "You're in good hands. Mr Holmes will ensure that nothing happens to you, both of them." She blinked, shocked, he genuinely sounded sincere at that. But then just as quickly as the kindness came on, it went, and his cool, blank expression materialised back over his face.

"You ought to get some sleep Miss Harley." She figured it would be best if she tried, so she moved her bag onto the floor and lay stretched out across the seat. It only took a few minutes and she was asleep. Nothing like a light sedative in one's drink to vanish the nerves away.

It had been two weeks since Lily had been moved out of her flat, two weeks since Moriarty had come into the picture and nothing had happened. Even basic crime was on the lull, it was like Moriarty planned on boring Sherlock to death. John watched nervously as Sherlock paced the floor of the flat, he had hidden his gun and so far Sherlock had yet to find it, but this was Sherlock; he could make a book into a lethal weapon. Sherlock gave a loud growl of frustration and flung himself onto the sofa, arm dangling down on to the floor.

"John give me your gun, I have to shoot something."

"No. Go take a cold shower or something." Sherlock swung himself into a sitting position and seethed at John,

"This is not some common sexual frustration that mere mortals, like you John, get. This is practically death to a mind like mine. I need to do something! I have told you my mind rebels at stagnation!" John groaned and flipped open his newspaper,

"Yes, so you keep telling me. Yet so far, you have not died when these dips in crime happen, you always find something to do." He turned another page, "And no, analysing me is not an option." Sherlock gave a huff,

"Well then I'll just go out and analyse something else then." He grabbed his coat and stormed out the door,

"Don't get arrested, I can't afford to bail you out," John called down after him; he answered by slamming a door. "Like a bloody child."

Lily in turn was also getting frustrated. It had been two weeks and she hadn't heard from anybody, including that nice doctor who had said they would come to see her. According to Mark, nobody could come and see her for another week, safety apparently. She had been placed in a large country house, which must belong to the Holmes's, as their large family crest hung in main hall. She had studied it intently, as well as the other objects of historical interest within the house. She had made friends with the staff, even Mark had opened up a bit, teaching her how to play card games, such as poker and he even helped her stay on top of her self defence lessons. He showed her few things you wouldn't learn in an average lesson, she was sure that these moves came from being in the SAS for nearly two decades.

Yet despite all this, she had no idea what was going on. She had no need to worry about her parents, her parents were both dead, passed away when she was fifteen in a plane crash. She knew her friends and work colleagues wouldn't be attempting to get in touch, she was told they had been given a false story. That she was apparently in Thailand somewhere, relaxing and recovering from the unfortunate circumstances and then she would be travelling to Japan, to look at authentic geisha costumes from the something-or-other period. How she longed for that to be true, staying in one of the temples in Thailand again would be fantastic, she thought sadly.

This particular day found Lily in the stables, she hadn't realised they existed until the housekeeper, Joan, had dragged her to them. There was only so much sighing from Lily that Joan could put up with, she left Lily in the capable hands of Donald, one of the groundskeepers and marched back off to the kitchen.

"We'll put you on Prancer here, don't let the name fool you; she's a bit feisty." He gestured to a very haughty looking horse which he brought out of the stables only a few minutes ago. Lily had the distinct impression that Prancer was not at all happy with Lily.

"So why is she called Prancer?" She gently placed the saddle on Prancer's back, all the memories came flooding back as she tightened the belt and began checking the stirrups.

"She's a show horse, well, she was. Retired now, aren't you girl?" He stroked her nose, and Prancer snickered softly.

Lily checked the stirrup on the other side, then checked the bridle, ensuring it wasn't too tight and that it wouldn't rub at Prancer's face,

"Like a second nature isn't it?"

Lily grinned at Donald,

"Like riding a bike," she replied, "You never forget how to do it." They led Prancer over to the mounting block and Lily mounted up. Donald stood back, allowing Lily and Prancer some distance. Lily leaned forward slightly to whisper in Prancer's ear,

"Why don't we show them what mistake it was to retire you?" Prancer's ears flickered softly, she was listening, "Come on the girl; let's show them what we've got." Prancer neighed in response. Lily grinned and started Prancer off at a walk towards the race track.

As soon as Donald shut the gate after them, they were off. They started in a slow trot and Lily had second thoughts about declining a helmet but there was no going back now. She decided to put Prancer through her paces. She clicked her tongue and Prancer began to speed up, slowly on the first lap; starting at a canter and then speeding up to full pelt. Prancer barely needed any direction, she knew this track well and Lily was more than happy to let her be in control. Prancer was an old pro at this, she could tell, so Lily would just enjoy the ride. They Donald came back in to sight and Lily clicked her tongue one more time.

It was like flicking a switch, Lily would say later, Prancer went smoothly into a gallop, her powerful legs pushing them forwards. The wind sped through Lily's hair and Prancer's mane, everything around them went blurred, like knocking water over a new painting. The colours merged and Lily kept her eyes to the front. When they tilted slightly to go round the corner, they do so as one, Lily would pull the reigns slightly to slow Prancer down at these points but once the track went straight Prancer pushed forward, taking back control.

It seemed over and done within a matter of seconds. They trotted back towards Donald, Prancer was literally prancing; Lily laughed and patted her neck,

"You and me both, I bloody loved it."

"If only I had my stopwatch!" Called Donald as he walked towards them, "You should become pro girl." Lily smiled and shook her head,

"Nah, my calling is history. I love riding just not doing it for a living."

"Well seems Prancer approves of ya now love." Lily took a long look around the grounds that surrounded the house, Donald seemed to read her mind.

"Go take for her ride, the borders of our land are clearly marked and you'll be safe. Best security money can buy round here. I'll let Mark know where you're going, although he'll probably already know."He motioned with his head towards one of the security cameras which had been trained on them since Lily first stepped outside.

Donald glanced at his watch, "It's getting onto three o clock now, you be back in about five ok? You got a watch?" Lily nodded and flashed her wrist at him.

"Five o clock remember. Stick to the boundaries, you'll be alright."

"Thanks Donald!" She turned Prancer back around and walked her back through the gate, Donald led her to the opposite gate which would take them to the fields. As soon as they passed through the gate Prancer took off, she wanted this as much as Lily, Donald could tell.

"I'm telling you Joan! The girl could become pro! You should have seen her and Prancer together, like they'd been racing together since birth." Joan smiled and shook her head at Donald, moving the chicken she had prepared for dinner into the oven.

"You heard the girl though Donald, she doesn't want to go pro, plus with everything going on with the girl, you shouldn't press such things on her." Donald sighed and took a sip of his tea,

"I know, I just miss the training you know," Joan gave him a sympathetic smile and squeezed his arm,

"I know you do love," she took her sip of her own tea, "Maybe you could offer her training anyway, keep her and yourself entertained." Donald smacked the table,

"You, Joan, are a bloody star you know that!" She gave a small chuckle,

"So you tell me every day. Now get out my kitchen, I've got a dinner to cook and Lily will be on her way back now." She flicked a towel at him and he walked out with a bit of a lighter step.

"You always did know how to cheer us old grumps up Joan."

"Sherlock! Come here and give me a hug!" Sherlock strode towards and enveloped her into his arms, placing a kiss upon her greying brown hair. She stepped back at held him at arm's length,

"You are much too skinny. I would have thought living with a doctor would have improved your health."

"Mycroft tells you too much. And my health has improved greatly since living with John, I'm having a least two square meals a day and he's taken control of my nicotine patches." Joan poured him out a cup of tea,

"And how's he handling that then?"

"Very well, for someone who's so bad at hiding places," Sherlock took a sip of his tea, "Perfect as always Joan."

Lily had left Prancer in the capable hands of Donald after insisting on brushing Prancer down herself. She was crossing the courtyard when Mark came jogging towards her.

"How was it?"

"Brilliant! Legs are a bit sore, but I can't wait to go out again." He clapped her on the back and walked with her back to the house,

"I'm glad you found something else to do Lily. Sorry I haven't been around recently."

"Don't worry about it, you have a job to do, I understand that." Mark nodded and after a second's pause gestured towards the house,

"We've got a guest by the way. Sherlock Holmes." Lily turned towards him,

"He got any news?" she asked excitedly, Mark shook his head and Lily turned back disappointed,

"He'll figure it out," Mark rushed to add, "Trust me, Sherlock will get to the bottom of this, he's the best there is. Just don't tell him that, his ego is big enough." Lily giggled and Mark smiled, happy that he seemed to have cheered her up.

They got through the back door and slipped off their shoes in the cloakroom.

"You don't remember him do you?" Mark opened the door for Lily, that would take them into the utility,

"Who?"

"Sherlock," Lily gave a Mark a blank look,

"Should I?"

"His parents knew your parents, last time you all met up you were probably about eleven." A memory of surly looking young man with long black hair being fondly stroked by a striking woman flashed through Lily's mind,

"Oh my god! I do, how did I forget that?" Mark laughed,

"Can't have left a lasting impression on you. Don't worry about it, Sherlock only figured it out himself when Joan practically spelt it out to him earlier."

Mark pushed open the door which led to the kitchen,

"Spying through cameras again Mark?"

"Just doing what I'm paid to do Sherlock." Joan grabbed hold of Lily's arm, sat her down on of the stools at the breakfast bar and stuck a hot cup of tea into her hands,

"Get that down you love. Dinner will be ready in a short while. You," she pointed to Mark, "your dinner is on the table already, now get to it before it goes cold."

"Yes Mum," and laughed darting out the room as Joan went to smack him round the head with a towel,

"Boys, no respect these days," she clapped her hands together, "I'll go and make sure the lads have got enough food, and then I'll get you a new bottle of pop from the pantry Lily darling. Sherlock if you could fetch the dinner out the oven for me in ten minutes, that's a good lad."

As Joan left the kitchen, Lily kept her eyes focused on the table as Sherlock had been staring at her intently since she stepped inside.

"You look a lot like your mother," he said suddenly, Lily glanced up and saw he was peering at her hands, "But your hands, you've got your father's hands, pianist's hands."

"Unfortunately I didn't inherit his musical talent," she flexed her fingers, they suddenly didn't look like her own, she blinked and they were back.

"Feel like you're losing yourself?" he asked; pulling up a stool to sit opposite her, "It happens but you'll get back."

"How do you know that?" Sherlock shrugged off his coat and placed it on the table,

"I was somewhat in the same position you are now, a while ago."

He didn't continue and Lily wouldn't press it. They carried on sipping their tea, until Sherlock glanced at his watch,

"Best get the dinner out,"

"I'll get the plates and other things," offered Lily, she hopped off her stool and began opening cupboards, pulling out plates and glasses. Then she fetched some cutlery; Sherlock in the mean time had opened the oven door, the smell of roast chicken and vegetables filled the kitchen. Lily suddenly felt very hungry. They moved around each other easily, Lily set the table, while Sherlock dished up the plates. Lily had just finished making the gravy when Joan came bustling back in with the bottle of pop in hand.

"Oh lovely, you've dished up as well. Right then, sit down, don't stand on ceremony."

The meal was eaten with a pleasant conversation taking place between Sherlock and Joan. Lily was glad she wasn't asked any questions; she suddenly felt extremely tired and doubted she could keep up with a conversation and eat dinner at the same time. Despite offering to stay and clean up, Lily was shooed out of the kitchen shortly followed by Sherlock.

"I remember the last time you offered to help out Sherlock; it took us hours to clean up the bubbles." Lily was confident that Sherlock wouldn't want to stay around and talk to her, so she made her way to the library.

Lily had pretty much made the room her own since arriving, her books, papers, laptop and similar belongings were strewn across the large desk. The east side of the library had a large sun room attached to it, there Lily had spent most of her time painting and drawing, she got a lot of inspiration watching the sunrise in that room.

"You've certainly made your mark in here." Lily twirled around, Sherlock was flicking through one of Lily's work books, "Mycroft pretty much banned me from coming in here last time, something about having acid around first editions," Lily gave a nervous smile,

"I guess he had a point." Sherlock gave a delicate shrug and continued to look through the pile of papers and books,

"It's a pig sty, I know," Lily didn't know what she felt she had to apologise, after all it certainly sounded like Sherlock had no care for neatness himself.

"Pig sty," Sherlock muttered to himself.

"Sorry?" Lily frowned. Sherlock suddenly seemed to leap for joy, his eyes crackling with energy,

"Of course! Why didn't I see it!" he declared, he ran over to Lily and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek,

"You are just as good as Yorick and John!"

"Erm...thanks, I guess." She watched bemused as Sherlock took off out the library and winced slightly as she heard a door bang loudly. A few minutes later Mark popped his head in,

"What was all that about? Just saw Sherlock take off like a mad man, not that that's anything new." Lily shrugged, she was still very confused.

"I've got no idea; I think he must have figured something out...Mark, who's Yorick?"

"Oh that would be Sherlock's skull. I think John gave him the name."

"Right, of course." Lily glanced at Mark who was doing this best not to laugh, "You're not pulling my leg are you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the delay! Life getting in the way as usual, but here it is the latest update.

I hope people are still enjoying this and I look forward to reading your reviews or any tips you may have for me :D Happy reading!

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><p>John very nearly leapt out of his chair when Sherlock came crashing back into the flat. He rubbed his bleary eyes and rolled his neck, it never did him any good falling asleep in that chair.<p>

"Where did you go?" John stood up, stretching and glanced at the clock, "You've been gone nearly five hours."

"It's pig pen code!" Sherlock waved one of Arthur's notebooks in the air, "How did I not see it?"

John walked over to where Sherlock was leaning over the notebook, scribbling something down onto another pad,

"You figured it out then? What brought this sudden clarity on?"

"A third skull," said Sherlock delightedly, John groaned,

"Please tell me this one is attached and still living,"

"Of course, it's Miss Harley."

"Lily Harley! She's ok right?"

"Of course she's alright John, bored, but none the less alright. My brother prides himself on his security details so don't let him hear you ask such things, it will upset him greatly. Done!" He pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up Lestrade's number.

"Lestrade, get over to 'The Muse Gallery' and arrest the owner, one Dimitri Johnson. He was the one who brought Moriarty's services to get the tablet, chances are if you check out the rest of the store you'll find some other things not legally acquired...Arthur's notebook, he wrote it all down in the pig pen code, just get over there." As soon as he ended the call, Sherlock grabbed his laptop and logged on to his website,

"Sherlock what are you doing?" He peered over Sherlock's shoulder, "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"How else am I going to get his attention? And what better way to do it, then to take away one of his most high paying clients."

John reread what Sherlock was posting up, 'One Egyptian tablet, not for sale to one Dimitri Johnson, owner of 'The Muse Gallery.'

"How do you know Moriarty will go for this?" A small pop signalled a reply had been posted. John stared at the screen in disbelief while Sherlock grinned manically.

_Anonymous: Bravo. Now your appetite has been wetted, let's get to the main event. _

"I don't believe it," John whispered, "He's been watching your site this whole time, just waiting."

"Yours' too, probably," Sherlock answered, shutting the lid of the laptop, "Just waiting for an answer and now for a serious game." John looked concerned,

"Sherlock, remember this man is responsible for the deaths of innocent people, and nearly killed us."

"Yes John, I do remember, I was there too." he snapped harshly, "John if I am to catch Moriarty I must play his games and I won't lie by saying I don't enjoy it because I do." He softened slightly at John's face,

"That's why I need you John, to keep me in check. I'd be lost without my blogger." John rolled his eyes but it seemed to have worked; as some of the tension eased from John's body,

"So now we wait?"

"Now we wait."

Lily was in disbelief and completely confused,

"I can go home? Just like that?"

Lestrade took a seat in front of Lily and tried his best to once again reassure her,

"Moriarty is no longer interested in you. We believe that he genuinely believes you know nothing of him and unfortunately none of Arthur's notebooks or tape recordings can shed any light on where Moriarty is hiding or who is working for him."

"We'll ease you back in slowly of course." added Mycroft, who had been the first to inform Lily that she was no longer in danger. He tapped his umbrella slowly on the floor.

"You will stay here for a further two weeks, going back to work three times a week, then you can move back into a house which we've found for you. The house has the best security available and for another two weeks Mark will escort you to work and back, then after the four weeks your life is yours' again." Lily slumped back into the sofa,

"I just can't believe he's backed off so quickly."

"No one knows why he does what he does Miss Harley, but just to be grateful that he has."

Lestrade passed over his card to Lily and told her to call him anytime she was concerned. Mycroft was showing him the door,

"Do you genuinely believe he's backed off?"

Mycroft shook his head,

"No, he won't entirely. At some point he'll let us know he's still watching her just to keep us on our toes, and I wouldn't have it any other way," then Mycroft gave a smile quite like Sherlock's.

"You know just when I think you and Sherlock are completely different, you go and do something like that," muttered Lestrade.

"I will take that as a compliment. Good day Detective Inspector."

The four weeks passed quickly, too quickly for Lily's liking. All too soon she was saying goodbye to Donald and Joan, and then goodbye to Mark. She was alone. She stood silently in the kitchen of her new house, it was beautiful house and once she had been shown the extent of the security within the house she felt pretty damn safe. Yet after living in the country house with all the staff, having people talk to every single day and now to this, living by herself; it was going to be hard to get use to. She glanced over at her laptop which lay on the kitchen table; on the screen it showed the software for the security within her house. Lily could alter anything she wanted, turning the sensors on or off and also choosing which cameras which she wanted on. At the moment the only camera that was on was the one within the porch, so you could see who was coming in and out of the house.

She moved to stand in front of her laptop, the mouse hovering over the button which would turn all the cameras on within the house. She stared unwavering at the screen, as though willing it to make a decision for her. Then suddenly she shook her head and closed the lid. She had to learn not to depend on these people. It was only the first night too she reminded herself. She could turn the cameras on when she went to bed. With that thought she gave a small smile and set about sorting out what she could have for dinner.

Opening the fridge door, Lily took a look inside. She then moved onto the freezer and then the cupboards. She had no idea what to have. Checking her purse, she decided on a takeaway. Grabbing the phone she placed a quick call to the local takeaway. Mycroft's assistant, Anthea, had helpfully wrote any useful numbers on the blackboard next to the phone. 'I'll have to remember to thank her next time I see her' Lily thought. Turing on the kettle, she then wandered into the living room, turning on the large flat screen TV.

"Let's see if there's anything good on tonight," she muttered.

The doorbell rang thirty minutes later. Grabbing her purse Lily made her way to the door then stopped abruptly. What if it wasn't a delivery man, what if it was someone disguised as one? Lily hadn't been told how to check for such things. She halted for a few minutes and then the doorbell rang again. She took a breath and hesitantly walked the last few steps to the door.

"Miss Harley? You ordered a Chinese?" A young man stood at the door, he seemed as unsure as Lily was. She forced a smile and nodded,

"Yeah, that's me. How much do I owe you?" The lad in turn broke out into a grin,

"Oh good, for a second there, thought I'd got the wrong house again. That would be £15 please." She pulled out a twenty and passed it to him,

"Keep the change,"

"Thanks very much, have a good night!"

Shutting the door Lily slumped against it, the food bag dangling from her hand,

"I'm going to have a panic attack by the end of the week at this rate." She took a few steadying breaths to calm her nerves and headed towards the kitchen. Then the power went.

"You have got be fucking kidding me!" Lily gently felt her way along the wall, trying to make her way for her living room was proving to be quite tricky. She bashed her legs no fewer than five times by the time she reached the fireplace. She grabbed the matches that had been left and began lighting the candles that lined the mantelpiece. The room filled with a soft, warm glow,

"I'm going to have buy Anthea a huge bouquet of flowers after this."

Once again, it was Anthea's doing that there were candles and matches at all.

Lily cocked her head slightly; she could hear music coming from somewhere. Treading carefully she managed to get into the kitchen without hitting any limbs. Placing the food bag onto the table, she picked up her mobile and grinned at the screen. It was playing The Police and their song 'I'll be watching you'. It was Mark; he did have an odd sense of humour.

"Hey Mark, nice ringtone by the way."

She heard the smile in his voice,

"Hello Lily, knew you'd like it. Just checking up on you, power cut is a local one, several streets without power. We've got our men on it, they'll have it fixed in no time. Just make sure your doors are locked till then, ok?"

"Yeah thanks Mark. While I've got you on the phone, you don't know where I can get a dog do you?" Mark gave a low chuckle,

"You don't need a dog Lily, you've got us." She laughed in response,

"Actually I was thinking more for company. It's pretty lonely, not having a flat mate." There was a few seconds pause before Mark spoke again,

"I'll look into it for you. I've got to go, boss in on the other line. Make sure you've locked your doors."

"Thanks Mark and will do. Talk to you later."

"Later Lily."

She rushed around the house, making sure all doors and windows were locked. She then went about lighting all the other candles within the kitchen and the rest in the living room. Both rooms seemed very cosy and warm with all the candlelight. She settled down on the sofa, a plate of Chinese balanced on her lap, she tucked in to her food. Actually quite happy that she had chosen a takeaway,

"This was what I needed, some cheeky takeaway and a little bit of ambience." Suddenly the lights came back on and in a blink they went back off, Lily snorted,

"So much for government trained electricians."

Two hours later and the power still wasn't on, a quick check out the window confirmed that the rest of the street was in the same boat. Lily flicked through her list of her contacts, wondering if she should phone someone, just to have a chat. She threw it back down onto the sofa and rubbed her face frustrated with being bored and the lack of power within the house. She gave a quick stretch and got up to go to the loo. Boredom for Lily tended to lead to a lot of tea and coffee being drunk.

She decided to phone Mark; perhaps he could give her some idea when they would have sorted out the power. She reached over the back of the sofa to grab hold of her phone but noted it wasn't there,

"That's odd I could have sworn I...maybe it felt down the side." Lily made her way round to the front of the sofa and started feeling down the back of the cushions, when a loud crack made her jump. Spinning round Lily very nearly screamed but was too frozen by terror to do so.

A large pale man stood in front of her, only a metre away, he was so tall, that Lily had to bend her neck slightly back to look up into his face. He was like something out of a nightmare, he was slowly cracking each of his fingers and each crack went straight through Lily, causing her stomach to clench into unpleasant knots.

"He's quite a sight isn't he?" A shorter man came round the taller one to stand next to him. He was dressed in a sharp suit, obviously tailored, he had gelled brown hair and small eyes that seemed to look straight into Lily's heart.

"He's known as Golem, not like the one out Tolkien's book, oh no something much worse." His Irish accent had an almost song like quality to it, like if you listened to him long enough, he would weave you into his spell.

"You can go now, wait for me outside." He waved to the Golem who gave one last dark look at Lily and walked out through the kitchen, she heard the back door close and then the two were alone.

"Oh forgive my manners. My name is Moriarty, James Moriarty."

Lily's legs gave out underneath her and would have hit the fall if Moriarty hadn't suddenly caught her. He wrapped his arms around and pulled her close,

"Now, now, Lily dear, let's have none that. Don't want you getting any injuries now do we?" He grinned down at her and Lily had the sudden urge to quote The Little Red Riding Hood.

"All the better to eat you with my dear." Lily felt all the colour leave her face, if she'd gone pale earlier she dread to think what colour she was now. Moriarty very slowly straightened himself, straightening his knees and in doing so, Lily's too.

"Shall we sit down or stay like this? Admittedly I quite like you like this," he squeezed her slowly, pulling her tighter into his chest, for a small man, Lily could feel his muscles under the fine material of his suit, "Pulled so close to me, makes me feel very in control."

Lily swallowed, trying to will her voice to come back and let her speak or scream.

"I'd rather sit down," she managed in a small whisper. Moriarty gave her a disappointed look,

"Very well," he twisted her round and pushed her down into the sofa, then took a seat beside her. Before she could move away, he placed a hand on her thigh and let it rest there, his fingers gently stroking her leg.

"Lily, Lily, do you know why I've decided to show myself to you?" She slowly shook her head,

"No? But I bet you're curious. After all, why would I show you my face, let you know what I look like so you can identify me. You have no involvement in Arthur's failure of getting the relic, why you're nothing but an innocent victim in all of this." He leaned in suddenly and stopped Lily from moving back from him by grabbing her face with his other hand.

"I know who you are Lily. I know what you did."

Lily's mouth dropped open and Moriarty gently stroked a thumb across her bottom lip,

"It was difficult mind you, I'll give you that. You've got friends in high places, very high places. Don't worry though. Mycroft doesn't know; he has no need to look into your past, after all why suspect an innocent young woman, dreadfully betrayed by her flatmate, would have such a dark past?" In a blink of an eye Moriarty had moved away from her, he was pulling his cuffs and smoothing down the front of his jacket.

"Anyway just figured I'd drop by, let you know what I know. I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to let anybody know about our little talk, that would bring up such awkward questions. Take care of yourself Lily, I'll be in touch."

Lily watched dumbfounded as Moriarty walked away and as the back door closed softly with a click, Lily suddenly felt as though chains had fallen away. She began shivering uncontrollably, and started rubbing her legs and face trying to rid herself of Moriarty's touch. She jumped violently with a small scream as her phone started ringing. She lunged herself towards the kitchen, her phone was lying on the table, it was Mark. She stood staring down at the screen, wondering whether to answer it or not. She had to; otherwise Mark would come round fearing something was wrong. She had to hope she had some acting talent hidden within her.

"Hey Mark, was just about to phone you."

"Alright Lily, sorry about making you wait for so long. You ok though? Cameras went down due to the power cut."

"Yeah I'm ok, just dying for a shower and a cup of tea, please tell me the power is coming back on."

"In a minute or two it should be back on. Some employee came in completely off his head, had a few too many before work, pressed a few too many buttons and caused a complete blackout." The lights came back on with a sudden flare; Lily shut her eyes tight against the sudden intrusion and swore violently. Mark laughed,

"There you go, power is back on; you can have your shower now."

"Yeah thanks." They exchanged goodbyes with Mark still laughing away.

Lily slowly went around blowing out the candles and then went back to lock the back door. A flash of white caught her eye; a lily lay on the ground outside the door. She wasn't sure why she did what she did next, whether it was an act of defiance or the fear of making Moriarty angry, she placed the lily in thin glass vase and placed it on the sill of the front window. She then made her way upstairs to the bathroom and turned the shower on and as the water warmed up, stripped off. Lily let the water run down her face, she started washing her hair, shampoo then conditioner. Then she began to wash herself, she squeezed some of the body wash onto a sponge and washed herself. She rubbed the sponge over herself until her skin turned red. Staring down at her blush red legs, she sat down on the floor of the shower and finally broke down.


	7. Chapter 7

Day after day passed quickly for John and Sherlock over the past four weeks, just as it had for Lily. John spent most of his mornings at the surgery, then his evenings with Sherlock, running through the streets of London after criminals and solving crimes. Sherlock spent his mornings when John was at work finishing experiments and waiting intently for Moriarty to start the game. Each case that came up John and Lestrade, in fact most of Scotland Yard would wait for Sherlock to determine whether this was the start. Each time Sherlock would softly shake his head. Not yet.

This particular Tuesday found John and Sherlock in very bad mood. Four weeks had passed since Moriarty had left the message on Sherlock's blog and no word had been heard from him since. He hadn't made any threat towards Lily either which Sherlock had confirmed he wouldn't.

"He's not interested in Lily, she had no involvement with the case and she knows nothing about Moriarty, he won't see her as threat or at all interesting." Also along with the power cut last night neither got what they wanted done. Sherlock's latest experiment was ruined and John had been unable to finish his work as his laptop cut out on him before he saved it.

Sherlock was now trying to salvage what he could of his recent tests and John was attempting to rewrite all of the work that he had lost last night. It was also at this point that John was extremely grateful of Sherlock's brilliant memory and that he hadn't deemed it necessary to delete such memories of last night, as Sherlock was occasionally calling out what John had wrote when he paused, stuck on what to put next. Ensuring that his work had been saved at least three times, John emailed a copy back to Barts and clicked off the document.

"Finally, thought that would take me ages," he stretched his arms upwards, his muscles tight from hunching over his laptop for the past three hours.

Sherlock carefully picked up the petri dish and placed it in the fridge,

"Put it away from the food Sherlock! I cleared out that storage space for a reason,"

"It's nothing harmful John," yet Sherlock placed the dish where John requested and closed the fridge door.

He made his way over to the sofa and flopped forward, dropping his head into his hands,

"Why hasn't he made his move yet? Is this his game? To bore me to death!" John stared at Sherlock, an awareness creeping over him,

"Sherlock you haven't checked your blog, not since last night." Sherlock's head snapped up and then lunged for John's laptop. With his quick and nimble fingers he logged onto his page and checked the messages.

John waited with baited breath. At first it seemed as though there was still no message, Sherlock was scanning the screen with a look of desperation and then it changed to a look of pure euphoria.

"He left one, early hours of this morning. The game is on." Sherlock leapt for joy from the sofa and John had to make a hasty grab for his laptop before it plunged to the floor. He glanced at the screen.

_Anonymous: I've sponsored someone new my dear. _

John looked quizzically at the screen,

"What does he mean by sponsored?"

"The first case we had together John, the cabby. The cabby said that Moriarty sponsored him and now Moriarty has found someone new. There's a new killer on the streets of London." John's eyes widened in shock,

"You've got to phone Lestrade Sherlock, he needs to know."

"I'm afraid it is too late for that," Sherlock was looking at the window, "It would seem we have our first victim."

John stood up and went to stand beside Sherlock, a police car was parked outside and a very harassed looking Lestrade was getting out. They both moved at the same time. John found their phones and keys, while Sherlock pulled on his coat and threw John's to him. Lestrade was just coming up the stairs as they started down them.

"Where is it?" Lestrade looked up surprised,

"You know?"

"Moriarty left us a message," John explained, passing Sherlock his phone.

The three men walked out of 221B and into the police car,

"Caucasian male, late 40's, found in a local park with a stab wound to the heart and a brand to the chest, an A."

"A? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John turned to Sherlock.

"Adulterer, it was a popular method of punishment during the 17th century in Puritan settlements for those who committed adultery. I'm presuming victim is married but wife has a strong alibi so she is not a suspect,"

"Correct. Wife went to her sister's after an argument with her husband, her sister and brother in law both testified that she was with them at the time of death, which was about….."

"Ten hours ago." finished Sherlock.

"Roughly the time Moriarty posted the message."

"Yes John. Most likely the killer texted him once the job was complete." He tapped his phone against his chin, "Now the question is, was the victim an adulterer or is the killer trying to distract us?" Lestrade shrugged his shoulders, opening the car door.

"Guess we could ask the wife, see if she knew."

"There'll be no need for that Lestrade, the victim will tell us." And with that Sherlock disappeared into the back of the car. John and Lestrade shared a puzzled look before following suit.

They arrived at the scene and immediately Sherlock started processing was he observed. They were in a park and the crime took place in a secluded part. The body lay within a curved arc of bushes; the only way the body could have been seen was if someone were to walk into small opening of the bushes. Sherlock pulled on his gloves,

"A child found it I presume?" Behind him somebody scoffed,

"Oh, please Lestrade must have told you that."

"Actually Anderson he didn't. It was obvious a child must have found it because this is a place where children use it for a den. Well secluded so they will not be disturbed by any adults, lots of sweet packets and from the shoe prints that haven't been disturbed you can see that they are small, much too small to be adults, and then there is the most obvious fact of them all," he spun round to face Anderson, "There's a child being comforted in the back of the police car by his mother. Do us all favour and think before you speak. You've wasted enough of my time."

He snapped one of his gloves to finish the conversation and spun back to face the body. He could just hear Lestrade and Anderson arguing away in the background and managed to tune them out. John stood behind him, waiting patiently for Sherlock to make his deductions, his pen flew across his note pad, noting down anything that would be of use in a later date. Or, Sherlock gave a small smile, to write up in his blog. He suddenly noticed something strange about the man's shirt and the blood stain and knelt down to look closer. John peered over his shoulder.

"What have you got?"

"His shirt is all wrong and the stain look at it, it's much lower than it should be. You can see the tear in the fabric where the knife went though yet the wound is a good couple of inches higher. The killer unbuttoned his shirt and then did it back up, tucking it back in." Sherlock undid some of the buttons and slowly a brown envelope came into sight.

"Lestrade," the detective paused in his berating of Anderson and turned to face John, "Sherlock's found something." He rushed over and knelt down next to Sherlock,

"What have you got?" Sherlock opened the envelope and pulled out a small pile of pictures. He flipped through them.

"Proof that this man was indeed committing adultery." he passed the pictures over to Lestrade, who also leafed through them. He let out a low whistle,

"Great. Bad enough we had to tell his wife that he was mutilated as well as murdered but now I have to tell her he was cheating too."

"What about the woman?" John motioned to the woman in the pictures "Wouldn't she be at risk too, if the killer is going after adulterers?" Lestrade swore,

"Bloody hell, you're right." he yelled over for Donovan, he handed over one of the pictures, "See if you can find this woman, she could be in danger."

"She's most likely a colleague."

Sally sneered at Sherlock,

"I don't need advice from you freak."

"You obviously do, as I wouldn't be here otherwise, shame you never listen to my advice about Anderson." Sherlock looked up, staring unflinching at Sally's raging eyes, "And considering that there is a killer going after adulterers you may want to heed it."

Sally took a step toward but was instantly blocked by Lestrade, she blinked in mute shock when she realised that it was John's hand on her shoulder however that halted her movement. She had forgotten that John was in the army once yet it all it took was to see Sherlock's calm expression to bring all her rage back.

"You can't let him on this scene! He practically just threatened me!" John removed his hand and went to stand back next to Sherlock,

"Actually you could say he warned you." replied John. Donovan was about to retort when Lestrade cut her off,

"That's enough. You've got a job to do, now go do it. That's an order." Sally gave one last raging cold glare at Sherlock and stormed off.

Lestrade turned back, a look of weariness on his face and from what John could tell, a hint of worry too,

"She isn't in danger is she?" Sherlock shook his head,

"No. We wouldn't let anybody get near her to do so anyway." he smirked at the shocked expression on Lestrade's face,

"We may not get on Lestrade, but I wouldn't let any harm come to her. I sincerely believe Donovan could become a decent detective, perhaps if she were to rid of herself of damaging influences." He glanced over to Anderson who gave him a sneer in return. John was just thankful he was too far away to have heard what Sherlock had said.

Sherlock clapped his hands together,

"Right, ready? Victim most definitely adulterer, as now determined. Your killer most likely grew up around here, knew the area well. Most likely this little hideaway was here when he was younger, you can tell by the wear of the ground and the height and density of the bushes. He also must have known when the police did their rounds so as to avoid them." he paused so Lestrade and John could keep up in their note taking,

"And how do we know the killer is a man?" He removed a picture from the pile and pointed to it,

"Here you can see that this picture was taken within a restaurant. He must have posed as the waiter and there you can see his hand, collecting the menus, he's clever though or just lucky, as we never see the palm of his hands so we can't get a decent print to identify him. Unfortunately him though, there is so much more we can use to do so."

John glanced up from his note taking,

"There is?" Sherlock motioned for them to come closer and started pointing out things from the pictures,

"The camera must have been hidden in his belt; you can see where they are looking up, using the angle of where they are looking and the height of belt above the table I can determine he is about 6 foot in height. Hands are tanned and his dark hair, hairy hands, too much for a woman, so hence we know the killer is a he, not ethnic though, you can just about see a tan line when he reaches for the menus in this picture," he then moves to another picture, "He is about 40, going on the look of the hands and the watch he is wearing, old, at least twenty years. Not modern enough for a younger man."

He placed the pictures back into the envelope and then knelt down next to the body, the other two followed suit.

"Now the wound tells us that this man is medical trained, he cut the main artery to the heart, look how neat it is, anybody else would just stab, not this one. No he knew where to cut and how deep. He's done this before; see how clean the wound is, no jagged edges. He knew exactly how much pressure he would have to exert to get the blade through the layers of skin, fat and muscle. So a trained doctor, perfect really nobody would expect a doctor." Lestrade looked to John for confirmation, who nodded,

"He's right; you can't learn this stuff in books. You would learn it through practice."

Lestrade ran a hand through his greying hair,

"Now all we have to do is go to every restaurant in the vicinity. The killer could be long gone by then."

"Lestrade haven't I taught you anything?" Sherlock pulled a picture out of the envelope, "you must start using your brain a bit more," he pointed to the menu that was clearly shown and there the name of the restaurant. Lestrade pulled his phone from his pocket,

"With any luck, he hasn't realised how spectacularly he's messed up." he marched away leaving John and Sherlock still standing by the body.

John noted the look on Sherlock's face,

"What's wrong?" Sherlock stood up, peeling off his gloves and tossing them in a nearby bin liner,

"What makes you think anything is wrong, John? A case has been solved and the killer will soon be in custody." John sighed and slipped his notebook back into his jeans pocket,

"Because it's too easy, compared to the last tasks he set you. You're good Sherlock, amazing in fact; you just proved that yet again. But the last 'game' he set you was much more challenging; I can see the disappointment in your face." Sherlock couldn't help but to smile at John,

"You're getting better at reading me, very good; and yes you're right. Something is off about this John. I don't know why but it is." John pulled off his gloves and threw them into the same bin liner,

"Let's go see if Lestrade has found out who matches the description first and then you can muse over it later."

Lily woke with a start on the kitchen floor, she groaned and clutched her head as it started to pound and the bright sunlight hit her eyes. She grabbed hold of the kitchen table and managed to pull herself to her feet. She was dressed in only a very large t-shirt which she had no recollection of pulling on after her shower. She went to sit down on the chair when her foot hit something cold. Looking down she gave another groan as she saw an empty wine bottle. Picking it up she saw that it was the bottle that had been left for her when she moved in, a house warming present from Mycroft o holHHH

Holmes. She stuck it on the table and managed slowly to get into the living room.

"Oh good lord." She was a mess. Her reflection showed that she had spent the night on the kitchen floor. Her hair had been shoved into a bun and most of it was coming out. The skin around her right eye and above the eyebrow was bruised, she lightly traced the dent that ran down the side of it and winced slightly. At some point she must had rolled into the leg of the kitchen table. Her legs and arms were littered in bruises as well, and if the state of her furniture was anything to go, she had obviously walked into a lot of things last night. She pushed her fringe of her face and turned to open the curtains, which she had thankfully had sense enough to do. She flung the curtains open and caught the vase before it had enough crossed her mind.

Some of the water spilled to the floor but the lily was safe. She gently placed it back on the sill and stared at the flower. She had actually forgotten last night's events. Lily had actually managed to temporally drink them away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep herself warm after suddenly feeling very cold. Walking over to the sofa, she snuggled herself into the corner, pulling her legs up and her t-shirt over her knees. She tried to think logically about last night, what she could do, and what her choices were. Her head was still pounding away, her stomach was rumbling but she felt incredible sick. She was in not state to think anything through.

"I need some tea," she said out loud, wanting to fill the crushing silence of her house. She strode into the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that everything seemed to swaying, and turned on the radio. Ellie Goulding filled the air and Lily hummed along as she made herself some tea. She slipped some bread into the toaster and sat down at the table. She took a sip of tea and then grabbed a notepad and pen that was lying on the table. When she couldn't think straight she made lists, it's what she did when her parents died and she does it most of the time when she gets stressed.

"Right see what shopping needs to be done, put the furniture back in order, what else?"

She slowly drank her tea and her list grew. As each minute ticked by her mind seemed to get clearer and her head had stopped pounding. She managed to eat her toast and the nauseous feeling passed. She knew what she needed to do. First she checked her laptop and loaded up her security program. Good, at some point last night she had turned off all but two cameras, one that faced the front door and the one that faced the back door. That meant nobody had seen her drink the night away. She began to pace the living room floor.

"Ok, so Moriarty knows. Yet he didn't threaten me with that knowledge. Just said not to tell anybody about his visit, which I won't. I can't, or they'll ask why and I'll have to tell them. He'll lose interest, he's got bigger fish to fry...I can be gullible enough to believe that."

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a resolute nod. Lily would attempt to move on; she would not tell anybody that he had visited. Moriarty hadn't actually hurt her, scared her a bit, maybe a lot, but that was it. She clapped her hands together,

"Right let's make a start shall we?" She turned around and started pushing her sofa back into the place, singing along to the tunes on the radio.


	8. Chapter 8

Lestrade had hit some luck with the restaurant, the manager said he had hired someone fitting the description only a week ago, called Derek Johnson. Yet he was unable to confirm if he was medically trained.

"There's Michael Willis, who is also a waiter here, but he's in his late twenty's. I'll go and fetch you the details we have on Derek." Two hours they were stood outside a flat that Derek had given as his address, a flat that was completely boarded up and the neighbours confirmed it had been that way for the past two months. Lestrade groaned,

"Have you got anything else we can go on Sherlock?"

"No." he replied coldly, his hands were clenched tightly and he stalked away.

"He takes it too much to heart for someone who claims not to have one. You'll keep an eye on him John?"

"Always do. What happens from here?" They slowly began to follow Sherlock, who had halted further up the street to summon a taxi.

"We'll put out a description to the public and hope to god someone knows something, before it's too late."

Back at 221b John was thankful that his reflexes were still as sharp as ever, Sherlock was in such a foul mood he very nearly slammed the door in John's face as he stormed into the flat. John had just managed to catch it in time. He picked up Sherlock's coat where he had flung it to the floor and hung it back up on the peg.

"Sherlock you'll figure this out. But getting worked up about won't help matters." He given a cold look as a reply before the brooding detective flung himself on the sofa, the very picture of a Byronic pose. John stifled a snort and went to turn the kettle on.

"Coffee?" A muffled groan came from underneath Sherlock's arm

"Is that your suggestion for everything John? There is a killer out there and you suggest coffee?" There was a small pause and then the sound of cups being lifted from the cupboard,

"Tea then." Sherlock pulled himself up from the sofa, grabbed hold of the knife that was the post and aggressively started stabbing his post, trying to get rid some of the frustration that was filling up his body. He felt like tearing his hair out, when a beep filled the room.

John and Sherlock glanced at each other and automatically started looking around the room.

"Flat door didn't show any signs of breaking into. Do you think somebody has been here?" Sherlock stared at his laptop,

"I don't think it's a bomb John, I do believe we have been left a message." He sat back down and moved the mouse to clear the screensaver. His website was still up on the screen from where they had left it that morning.

_Anonymous: Someone looked a little bit tetchy earlier. I'll be more than glad to help ease off some that frustration for you ;) _

Sherlock practically growled at the screen and clutched at the coffee table so tightly his knuckles turned white. The screen was suddenly covered by his coat; he looked up to see John with his jacket back on and tucking his gun into the back of his jeans,

"What are you doing?"

"We are going to work off some of that tension. An old army buddy of mine owns a shooting range; he said he'll let us in for free if we're ever interested." Sherlock practically leapt up with glee and pulled on his coat,

"I could bloody kiss you John." John's ears turned a delicate shade of pink,

"Don't ever say that in public." He was met with a smirk and sly wink,

"No promises."

Lily had taken to pacing her bedroom after what had been the biggest session of cleaning she had done in her life. Her body was twitching and filled with nerves. She had tried sitting down yet would jump back up after a few minutes. She had completed all of her work within an hour and every single cup of tea she had made had to be poured away, as she was too distracted to drink it. She wanted out of this house, but wasn't too sure what to do, she spun round to pace back the other way went her toe collided with something. She cursed wildly and clutched her now throbbing toe. She reached down to pull up the offending item and came up with her trainers. Running, she would go running. She hadn't been out for a long run since this whole thing started.

Two hours later found Lily running with a steady pace, her iPod with her but not on. She allowed herself to drink in London, as it started to settle in for night life. The sun was just starting to descend below the horizon and it gave London a beautiful pink tinge. 'Like looking at it through rose tinted glasses' Lily mused. She swerved round two walkers and was picking back up the pace when someone yelling her name woke her from her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder and saw none other than Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

She slowly jogged to a halt and waited for the two men to catch up to her.

"Hello, I didn't know you lived round here." John smiled and shook his head,

"We don't, just been to the shooting range. How have you been? I'm sorry, I said I'd keep in touch," Lily waved his apology away,

"There's no need, I know you guys must be busy, what with the crimes and everything. Plus I'm fine, I feel really safe with the security and everything." She gave what she hoped was a convincing smile. John smiled in return but Sherlock was staring intently at her face,

"Even though you have one hell of a bruise surrounding your right eye, most likely caused by drinking, if the bruises on your legs are anything to go by."

Lily's heart jumped into her throat, she had completely forgotten what sort of man Sherlock Holmes was and that he could most likely see through her false facade. John suddenly closed the gap between them,

"May I see?" She gave a small nod, and he lifted her fringe out the way. She winced when his fingers hit a particular sore spot,

"Sorry. How did you manage that then?"

"As I said John, drinking," Sherlock too came for a closer look and peered at her eye, "Collided with the table leg did we?" Lily blushed,

"Yeah...pretty much."

There were a couple minutes of awkward silence. Lily was suddenly desperate to go back to the house which she had originally wished to leave.

"I'd best get back home, getting dark."

"We'll walk you back." Sherlock suddenly declared, John nodded, agreeing.

"Its fine honestly, I'm quite alright."

"Nonsense," he moved so he was standing to her side, "We want to make sure you get home safe. This way is it?" Lily looked from one face to the other and could see the steely determination there,

"Ok then. Yeah it's about twenty minutes away."

Once they reached her house, Lily had hoped they would leave but that wasn't the case. Sherlock had plucked her keys from her fingers and let himself in, then declared a cup of tea was just what they needed.

"I'm sure you must be starving, you go for a shower Lily. John and I will sort out some dinner." She watched helplessly as Sherlock placed his coat on a chair and began pulling cupboard doors open. John gave her reassuring pat on the back,

"You go; I'll make sure he doesn't trash the place." She watched as John went to turn the kettle on and then very slowly made her way up the stairs. This was turning into a very strange night.

Sherlock waited till he heard the shower turning on and then leant towards John, who was pouring some pasta into a pan.

"Did you notice how she flinched when we got too close and earlier when you patted her on the back?" John nodded grimly,

"Either what happened affected her more than we first thought or something is going on." Sherlock passed over a jar of sauce to John and then grabbed Lily's laptop off the side,

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Calm down John, or she might hear you. I'm ensuring Miss Harley's safety that's all. Make sure you don't overcook the pasta." He ignored John's muttering of privacy and logged onto Lily's account. There was something going on he was sure of it.

Sherlock went through everything he could think of which was pretty much everything. Yet he found nothing to explain why Lily was so nervous around them, maybe John was right and she was more affected by what happened concerning her old flatmate. He honestly thought that Moriarty had been in touch but it would seem that Sherlock was right in his first assessment Moriarty was not concerned with Lily. He closed the laptop down and placed it back in its original place.

"Nothing?" asked John, he shook his head,

"I thought perhaps she had been threatened by Moriarty but there are no emails or messages from him, I was even able to log on her phone account there were no texts. And according to the surveillance software the only people to have visited Lily is Mark and some colleagues."

John passed him a few bowls and some cutlery to set at the table,

"Well then we ought to see it as a good thing. Lily will get better, in time." He gave a quick stir of the pasta sauce, "Go give her shout, it's pretty much ready."

Lily stared at the wall so intently it would seem that the wall had did her a great injustice yet she was merely trying to gather her thoughts, and she hoped the pale blue would calm her. As of yet Sherlock and John had not shown any inclination that they knew about Moriaty's visit, in fact nobody had seemed aware. Which was perfect yet it one thing acting to her colleagues but another thing entirely to fool a man who could tell exactly where you had been walking by the soil on your shoes. Mark had regaled with her so many stories of Sherlock she knew not to underestimate him.

She let out a soft sigh; she couldn't hide in her room forever. Sooner or later she had to go downstairs. Plus it didn't help she could smell the pasta and tomato sauce drifting up, she was absolutely starving. She pulled out a top from one of her draws when her bedroom door swung open.

"Lily, dinner is served." She stared in mute disbelief at Sherlock who stood within her doorway quite openly staring at her bare torso, clad only in a bra.

"Get the hell out!" She shrieked and threw the first thing that came to her hand, which just so happened a very large book.

The novel hit the door with a loud bang, as Sherlock had suddenly darted back out slamming the door after him. From downstairs John's voice drifted up,

"What the hell is going on? Is everything ok?"

"I think I've done something a bit not good John." Lily could hear John groan,

"You didn't knock did you? Bloody hell Sherlock, social conventions, remember? We talked about this." A small giggle escaped Lily's lips and then suddenly she nearly roared with laughter. Despite having an almost complete stranger see her half undressed, Lily couldn't help but to replay Sherlock's face in her head, when he went from being casual to stunned and then to slight panic.

A timid knock halted her laughter,

"Lily? If you are dressed now, dinner is waiting." She pulled the t-shirt over her head and then pulled her door open. Sherlock was looking very apprehensive,

"I haven't got any books on me, if that's what you're looking for." He nodded slowly yet still gave her hands one suspicious look before making his way down the stairs with Lily in tow.

John handed her a glass of coke as she walked into the kitchen,

"I'm sorry about Sherlock. I am trying to teach him these things but he deems them unnecessary and deletes them." Lily gave a quizzically look,

"Deletes them? You can actually delete things? You have no memory of the information what so ever?"

"Yes, it's quite easy. Most people should do it, imagine how much more intelligent the human race would be if it stopped filling its heads with useless information." John placed a glass of water into Sherlock's hand,

"That's enough from you. Let's eat, ok."

They ate in what Lily felt was a comfortable silence. The initial embarrassment of what just happened had faded and she was left feeling lighter. It seemed like years since she had last laughed. The dinner was followed by John insisting he would wash up while Sherlock, despite much grumbling, would dry up. Lily sat at the table and they had a pleasant conversation about what was on the TV recently and they were both dying for the new Doctor Who series to start. Even Sherlock would offer his opinion and much to John's surprise, he barely insulted Lily when it was her turn to list her likes and dislikes.

The sky grew darker outside and they all sat down in the living room with cups of tea and Lily was even able to find a packet of biscuits. They had just turned the discussion to detective shows when John suddenly noticed the time,

"It's getting really late. I need to be at the surgery tomorrow morning, so we ought to go."

"I'll phone for a taxi for you," Lily stood up but John waved her back down,

"No need, I'll do it. Be back in a minute." He went out to stand in the hallway to make the call.

Lily placed her cup on the coffee table and turned her attention to Sherlock,

"You can ask, you know." He quirked an eyebrow at her,

"Ask about what?"

"You know what. I know you saw my scars and I bet you dying to know whether your deductions are right. So what have you got?" Sherlock stared at her for a few seconds before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Car accident, you were thrown through the front window. The shards of glass cut your left hip and yet no other part of your body shows any such scaring. That tells me that the window was smashed by something or someone else before you went through. The age of the scaring says it happened over twelve years ago. You were in the car with your parents that night."

Lily swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling dry, she took a small of her tip and nodded,

"All correct. We weren't wearing our seatbelts as you probably figured out. Dad always said he knew the roads so well, knew like them the back of his hand. How was he to know some drunk drivers thinking they could race were going to come round that corner?" For a second Sherlock thought he could see a glimpse of pure rage on her face and then it changed to a relaxed smile when John walked back in.

"Taxi's here. I'm sorry for intruding on you like this Lily but it was good to see you again and I'm glad you're doing ok." Lily took the hand that John had offered, he pulled her to her feet before shaking hands.

"And thank you for dinner, it was lovely." She then in turn shook Sherlock's hand,

"I hope you don't get bored enough to shoot the walls again."

He gave a small scowl,

"My bloody brother and Joan, they gossip too much." Lily gave a small smile yet it faltered ever so slightly when she felt Sherlock gently stroking her hand as he let go.

'Must have imagined that' she thought. She walked them to the door and watched as they climbed into the taxi. She waved goodbye as it pulled away and she suddenly felt a lot lighter. Closing the door, she strode towards the lily that had stood in its vase so innocently throughout the evening. She plucked it out of the glass vessel, gazing at its elegant beauty then dropped it on the floor, crushing it beneath her feet. Enough was enough.

The inhabitants of 221b Baker Street were woken by a banging in the earlier hours of the following morning. Poor Mrs Hudson limped to the front door and pulled it open to a flustered Lestrade,

"Honestly Inspector, could you not have used the phone?" Lestrade was half way up the stairs before she had even finished,

"I apologise Mrs Hudson but this couldn't wait." As he reached the door of 221b it was flung open by a bleary eyed John,

"We're coming, we're coming."

They were all in the car within a minute,

"Same MO, only this time it's a woman, body was found by a police officer on his round, in the exact same place as the previous one." John frowned,

"Isn't that odd? Why take the risk?"

"Because he's confident," replied Sherlock, "And with Moriarty watching over him he probably has every right to be, we just need to hope this time he's made a mistake."

The three of them circled the body and once again Sherlock noted that the woman's dress was not lying right. He pulled on a pair of gloves and gently lifted the dress up, another envelope lay resting on the stomach. Sherlock opened it up and pulled out the pictures, third picture in a huge grin stretched across his face.

"And there gentlemen, is our mistake."

He turned the picture to show them and caught in the edge of it was a finger. John leaned forward to get a closer look,

"Can you get a print off that?" Lestrade nodded,

"Most definitely. Finally a break."

A few hours later the group were in the lab, sipping on coffee and waiting for the computer to bring up the results of the print. Sherlock very nearly spat out his coffee as the awaited beep sounded through the room. He jumped with glee as he looked at the screen,

"A small prior, but a prior none the less, breaking and entering, about a year ago. A Daniel Johnson, made sure his alias was close to his original so he didn't slip up, and we have address, let's hope he's still living there."

"Are you sure it was good idea not to bring Lestrade with us?" John handed some cash over to the cabbie and followed Sherlock out the taxi.

"Positive. Moriarty hasn't said anything about getting the police but just to be on the safe side, we ought to do much of the work ourselves." John smiled proudly at Sherlock,

"That's very good of you, to keep them and other people safe,"

"Yes I suppose it is. They'd probably just slow me down anyway."

"I knew it was too good to be true," John groaned.

They reached the house where Daniel Johnson was listed as living and knocked the door. No answer. They tried again and still no answer. Sherlock was just contemplating on breaking in when a soft voice came from next door. A middle aged woman stood on her doorstep with a bag of shopping and young child peering at them curiously around her legs.

"Are you looking for Daniel Johnson?" John took a step forward,

"Yes we are. I don't suppose you know where he is?"

"At the hospital. Someone broke into his flat a few days ago and very nearly beat him to a bloody pulp." Sherlock was down the steps and striding back down the street yelling for a taxi. John hastily thanked the woman and took off after him.

It didn't take them long to track Daniel down within the hospital, John used his title to get the clerk at the desk to tell them where he was. They caught Daniel attempting to pull his clothes on and obviously trying to make a run for it.

"Daniel Johnson. Now where do you think you're going?" Sherlock pushed him back down on the bed and towered over him.

"Who the hell are you?" Daniel did his best to glare imposingly at Sherlock but his nervously darting eyes from Sherlock to John showed his true feelings.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and with a few clicks showed Daniel the screen,

"Recognise these people?" The dead man and woman flashed across the screen. Daniel's face went ghastly pale,

"They're dead?" He stared at John and then back at Sherlock, realisation dawned on his face,

"You think I'm responsible for that?"

"Well we did find your pictures on them," John waved an evidence bag which held just a couple of the pictures.

Daniel frantically shook his head,

"Nah you've got it all wrong. I'm a Private Detective, I was following them, hired by their partners. Check my wallet, my card's in there." John pulled the wallet from his jacket and found the card Daniel was looking for,

"He's right," and tossed it to Sherlock. He examined the card and gave a shirt nod,

"I remember you now. You sent me an email a few years ago, suggesting we 'team up'." The distaste of this idea was very evident on Sherlock's face.

Daniel's face on the other suddenly lit up,

"You're Sherlock Holmes! Bloody hell, you're a legend mate. You sure you don't fancy teaming up?"

"Quite positive. So these pictures are definitely yours' then?"

"Yeah, I took them but those aren't copies. Some bastard stole my camera before I could print them off." he pointed to his bruised face "Did this to me as well."

John could see the deducing that was going through Sherlock's mind and pushed the pictures back in his jacket, ready to follow Sherlock.

"Thank you for your time Mr Johnson. Come along John." He swept out of the room with John in tow,

"Anytime, Mr Holmes. You think about that partnership, yeah?"

"See what happens when you delete stuff? If you didn't you would've realised ages ago who Daniel Johnson was."

"I had no need to remember him then and that is still the case. I have all the information I need."

"Which is what exactly?" John pointed back to the room they had just left, "Because as far as I'm concerned he didn't give us anything useful at all."

"That, my dear John, is because you were not listening. He told us that his camera was stolen and that someone else printed the pictures off, these pictures end up on the victims. So our thief and killer must be one and the same. He knew who Daniel was and must have followed him home to retrieve the camera. All we need to get is the footage of which way the killer went after he stole the camera."

They darted into a lift before the doors closed and John pressed the button for the ground floor. He then turned back to Sherlock still very much confused,

"Footage? Not all the streets of London have cameras on them Sherlock, we'll be extremely lucky to get just a seconds worth of video of him."

"Fortunately for us John, you are, as usual, wrong. The streets have a lot more cameras on them then you would dare to think, that's just what they want you to believe." John raised an eyebrow,

"They?"

"Perhaps 'him' would be better. Mycroft."


	9. Chapter 9

Lily woke that morning feeling refreshed and well rested. She stretched slowly in her bed, pulling her arms over her head to stretch all the way from her fingers down to her toes. She felt positively light as she got out of bed, feeling as though she could float all the way downstairs. Pulling on a dressing gown, she practically skipped into her bathroom and then down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She hummed along to the song on the radio and even pondered on whether to eat out for breakfast as she made her cup of tea. She turned back around with the intent on drinking her tea upstairs as she got ready when an unpleasant sight caused her cup to slip from her hands. Lily didn't even feel the flecks of hot tea or pieces of ceramic hit her leg, she was too busy staring horrified at the large bouquet of lilies on her coffee table.

They were all the different types and colours. She slowly approached them and gently ran a finger across one of the petals just to assure herself they were real and she wasn't having a terrible nightmare. Unfortunately she could feel the smooth texture of the petal beneath her finger and her leg was feeling warm where the tea had hit it. She was most certainly awake.

A card lay nestled within the flowers. She pulled it off its stand and read the message that was scrawled elegantly across it.

_**To replace the other one.**_

_**Do try to not step on these.**_

_**Love**_

_**M.**_

Lily couldn't quite recall what happened next. All she knew now was that she had gotten changed, tided up the mess in the kitchen and had placed the lilies in vase. Her eyes flickered from the flowers to her phone, where it would only take one text and she would be rushed to safety. Yet that would mean telling them the truth. The thing that Moriarty was holding over her head. What she promised her Mum she would never reveal. She ran her hands over her face and pushed her hair off her face. How did it all go so wrong?

"For fuck sake's Arthur, how could you leave me in such mess?"

John had to admit that Mycroft definitely had his uses when he wasn't being creepy and intimidating. Mycroft had been able to pull all the footage they needed and John figured it best not to ask about the secret cameras.

"My team were able to find all that you need. And next time Sherlock, if you need my assistance do phone me yourself and don't force John do it."

"I have already dirtied myself with asking you for one favour, I'm not about to do it again." John squirmed uncomfortably as the two brothers locked into a staring contest.

"Not that watching you two fight isn't a barrel of laughs, but could we get back to the case at hand?" The two Holmes suddenly stirred as though they had completely forgotten John was there, though they most likely had. John pressed the button to start playing the DVD. The first few seconds showed Daniel Johnson walking out of a side-street, turning right before disappearing off screen. A few seconds later a hooded figure also came out of the street and followed Daniel.

"There's our man," muttered Sherlock.

The next few minutes of the footage showed Daniel Johnson walking back, oblivious to the strange figure tailing him. He entered his flat and after five minutes of waiting, the hooded man vaulted the gate of the little alley that separated the houses and disappeared. What followed next, John presumed, was their killer stealing the camera and attacking Daniel. They watched as this time he came out the front door and took off down the street, sprinting away with graceful ease.

He never deviated off course, he followed the exact same streets as he did when following Daniel, even going down the same side street they had first appeared out of.

"Something fell out of his pocket," Sherlock pointed to the screen, John could just see a small scrap of white lying on the pavement.

"Already retrieved," Mycroft pulled a small evidence bag from his inner jacket pocket, nestled inside was the scrap piece of paper. "You may find the logo very interesting."

Sherlock took hold of the bag and smiled,

"It's the logo of the restaurant, our killer does work there that is how he knew what Daniel was doing."

"But none of the staff matched the description and the only one that did was on holiday," John reminded him, "Maybe he was a patron?"

"No, he is most definitely a staff member. That side street leads to the back of the restaurant, where the kitchen is and the only ones that come through that is the staff. It's a dead end, nobody else can come through that street." Sherlock noted the uncertainty on John's face, "I know every street in London John, trust me."

They held eye contact for a while and then John nodded,

"I do. So, what now?"

"Well now I must return, one does not keep the Queen waiting." Mycroft placed his umbrella in the crook of his arm, "Keep me informed on how it all goes." Sherlock snorted,

"Like you don't know what happens around here, I bet you even know what I had for breakfast,"

"You did not have breakfast, still skipping meals I see. Take care Doctor Watson." John watched warily as Mycroft left the left and spun back to Sherlock,

"Please tell me he doesn't have cameras in our flat,"

"No, not after the 2008 incident. It's best you don't know the details."

"I'll take your word for it."

Sherlock rifled through a pile of paper and then pulled out what he was looking for,

"First we go and question this Michael Willis. Find out if he actually was where he said he was. If he is telling the truth then we must look further into the rest of the staff. After all our initial description of the killer was inaccurate as it turned out to Mr Johnson. We need to go over the remaining staff." John pulled his phone from his pocket,

"I'll phone up the manager, tell him what we need."

"Make sure he acts with complete discretion," added Sherlock as they made their way down the stairs, "We can't allow the killer to realise we are on to him."

Michael Willis was a very handsome man, tall with dark hair and a very charming smile, John reckoned he would have no trouble making sure the victims weren't intimidated when he first approached them. However after ten minutes of talking to him Sherlock had already signalled that he wasn't their guy. John had excused himself to make the phone call to the manager.

"Like I said Mr Holmes I was on holiday during those days. I'm sorry I wish I could help you."

"Perhaps you could. Is there anybody at work you think could have possibly done this?" Michael suddenly seemed nervous, pulling at the collar of his top, his eyes never quite keeping still.

Sherlock gave his best comforting smile,

"I can assure Michael any suspicions you have will be kept entirely confidential."

"Well there is Mr Hunt, he's the host at the restaurant, greets all the customers. He was training to becoming a doctor a few years ago, but an incident meant he had to change professions. He never told me what it was." Sherlock shook Michael's hand,

"That's brilliant and thanks for your time."

John had finished the phone call with the manager when Sherlock came out the flat.

"So not our guy then?" They set off down the street,

"No, he was telling the truth, and all the signs were there. The tan, the injection scar visible on his arm plus not to mention the signs of jet lag, he was most definitely on holiday. Michael did give me something useful though, he believes Mr Hunt could be a suspect."

"That's what the manager said, him and," John pulled out his notebook, "a Jake Cordon. Both were not at the work during the dates and times when the victims were killed. Although Jake is not medically trained, he is training to be a vet. A farm vet to be precise. Pigs are very close to humans,"

"Yes," mused Sherlock, "We'll keep an eye on him too. The question is how to get the killer to reveal himself." He stuck his arm out to flag down the taxi,

"Let's go back; I want to watch that DVD again, see if I can spot anything more about our hooded figure."

The iced latte tasted so refreshing, Lily hadn't realised it had gotten so hot while she was in the library. She nestled further into the seat that had found in the corner of the cafe and flipped one of her books open. By keeping to her routine Lily was hoping not reveal that anything was wrong. Mark had phoned to question why she hadn't had the cameras on and Lily was thankful that she had genuinely forgotten so she could tell Mark the truth. She promised to turn them on when she got home and had spent the rest of the day, figuring out a story for the bouquet of lilies.

She had ripped the card into little pieces and flushed them down the loo, so there was no evidence on who sent them. Lily was so deep in her thoughts she nearly jumped when she saw the man standing next to her.

She smiled up at him sheepishly,

"I'm sorry, daydreaming there. What did you say?" He grinned back, nice looking man, could be called handsome, if his eyes weren't so distracting. There was something about them she couldn't put her finger on.

"Sorry, I just saw what you were reading and wanted to know if you're studying that?" Lily glanced down at the open book in front of her; it was about the Irish Gaelic language.

"No, I'm just brushing up. I work at the museum, we're getting some relics in soon, so." she waved her hand at the book to sum it up.

"You don't meet many people who can speak that. No wonder he's so interested in you." Lily suddenly felt very cold and it had nothing to do with the air conditioning blowing gently down her back.

The man sat down in the chair opposite her, he crossed his legs and leaned back gracefully.

"What the hell do you want?" Lily was proud that her voice didn't show how she was truly feeling, that she wanted to start screaming and yell that a mad psycho was threatening her. Instead she slowly leaned forward, straightening her back, and kept her gaze locked with his. Wolf's eyes, that's what they reminded her of. His grin stretched wider, showing off very sharp fangs.

"He's got a thing with wolves hasn't he?" The man tipped his head back and laughed, he sounded like a jackal,

"Oh you're good. People underestimate you, don't they Lily?" He stared at her thoughtfully then pulled out an envelope concealed within his jacket,

"He wants you to read this and follow exactly what it says. You've got a chance to act as a hero Lily, don't let him down." He placed the crisp white envelope on the table, its' pure colour contrasting ironically with who it came from.

"And if I don't?" Lily watched as he stood up, smoothing out his jacket,

"You will. Whether you convince yourself you're doing it for yourself or not, you'll do it. After all wouldn't you like to know how it feels like to save a life rather than take one?"

For a split second it felt like the entire cafe had gone silent and heard every single word he had just said. Then all the sound seemed to rush back into Lily's ears, the chattering of the other customers, the clinks of cups and the hissing sounds of the machines. She took a deep breath, trying to ease her madly beating her heart which felt like it could burst from her chest at any second. When she felt composed enough she looked back at the stranger,

"Tell Moriarty I don't appreciate being threatened by his lackeys, if he knows me so well he would know that."

His eyes narrowed suddenly and any mirth on his face was replaced with the face of a killer,

"Watch what you say Lily, you don't know what he's capable of."

"Oh I do. He's already showed me that much. Do you want to know why he's really interested in me?" He seemed genuinely curious then,

"You don't know why."

"He's interested in me because he doesn't know what I'm capable and neither do I; which could make me a very dangerous person." She leaned back in her chair and picked up her drink, a look of complete calm and composure.

"Good day."

He gave her one last cold glare and swept out of the cafe. Lily waited for a few minutes, took a gulp of her iced latte before placing it quickly on the table. She folded her arms to conceal her trembling hands and took deep shuddering breaths. Her mind fought over her body, keep calm and don't panic. There's no need to flee, the danger is gone. She picked up the envelope, it was slim and light, only a small letter in there then. She turned it over and ran a finger over the wax seal that had placed over the opening. A lily decorated the wax.

She ripped the wax seal off and tore the letter open. She unfolded the paper and read the typed instructions.

_**At 2 o'clock tomorrow morning you will go out for a run.**_

_**You will run towards Wellington Street and go through the park.**_

_**Prepare to have a good excuse as to why you are there.**_

Was that it? Go for a run tomorrow morning? She flipped the paper over; there was nothing on the back. An excuse ready, what could Moriarty possibly mean by that? She screwed the letter up in ball with the envelope, her lips pursed ever so slightly. She needed a walk to figure this out. Grabbing her stuff she walked over to the counter,

"Could you put this in a takeaway cup for me please?" She muttered a quick thanks as her drink was handed back to her and hastily left the cafe.

Out in the open Lily just walked, she went past all of her favourite spots, paused at London Bridge to look down into the Thames and passed the Houses of Parliament. She was taking a major risk to follow Moriarty's instructions; for all she knew she could be going to her death or she could save someone's life. Would it clear her conscience if she were to do this? Doubtful, but could she honestly sit at home knowing there was a chance, albeit small, that someone's life was in danger? Lily let out a noise of frustration, startling some other pedestrians.

"Damn you. Damn you to hell."

Sherlock had watched the DVD seven times now and still seemed no closer to getting any other details about the killer. He didn't walk strangely, no limp or odd swagger that would reveal him. His face was completely covered at all times, as were his hands so no distinguishing features could be used there. Sherlock had determined he was about 5 foot 7" yet his weight was sketchy; there was no way of confirming it due to the large black hooded jumper he wore. He could be hiding a beer belly or it could be adding weight to him he had explained to John.

"Our two suspects are around that height too, although the waiter is 5 foot 8,"

"Well he could be too," Sherlock flung a hand at the paused screen; "He slouches throughout the entire video. Honestly what happened to good posture?"

"Probably went out after table manners."

Sherlock turned the laptop off with a huff and laid across the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

"What's the point of this John?"

John looked over at Sherlock and seemed startled by the question,

"Point of this? You mean the case? Well stopping a killer is one point I guess." Sherlock swung himself back up into a seating position,

"Nothing about this right, this game is completely wrong. It's almost like Moriarty isn't playing it with me at all." John was completely puzzled,

"Sherlock, I'm going to be honest I've got no idea what you're on about and no, that does not excuse you to insult me."

"Well you did leave yourself open for it," the harassed genius ran a hand through his curly black hair; "He hasn't been in touch. No messages or texts. It feels like I am merely pawn rather than the main player."

The two fell silent, Sherlock staring at the floor and John, unsure how to reply, stared at Sherlock. After what felt like a lifetime John swallowed to wet his dry throat and tried to come out with something that he hoped was useful and reassuring,

"All we can do Sherlock is to keep on trying. Try to remember on the goal here, which is getting a killer off the streets of London. The rest will fall into place."

Sherlock gave a small smirk,

"Not your best John, but the sentiment is appreciated."

"What we need to do is get something to eat, a small break from this," John headed to the fridge and stopped, "Is there anything I should know about?"

"Yes, we've barely any food, and the food we have got contains various forms of poison, an ongoing experiment."

"Right, bloody brilliant. Takeaway it is then."

It took a third worried phone call from Mark for Lily to stop pacing her kitchen and sit down at the table with a cup of coffee. Her eyes kept flickering to the clock, it one in the morning already. Time really did fly by when you didn't want it to. The pacing had been part genuine nerves taking hold and the other part was all linked to her excuse as to why she would be leaving the flat in an hour's time to go for a run. She was stressed, bored out of her mind from doing sweet fuck all.

She took her coffee and sat in the living room, switched on the TV and started channel flicking. 1.15 am. How come the clock never moved that fast when she wanted it to? Taking a sip of her coffee, she tried not to look at the cameras which she knew Mark and his team were watching nearly every move she made. They hadn't enquired about the sudden appearance of the lilies which Lily was thanking her lucky stars for. She feared one day all this lying would catch up to her. 1.30 am; time to get started.

Running her hands over her face Lily groaned, her face showed a look of complete and utter boredom. She placed her coffee on the table and stood up, glaring at the clock. Then nodded as though coming to terms with something and marched out the room and up the stairs. Ten minutes later she was back downstairs, dressed in her running gear and assuring Mark she would be safe.

"I'm only going out for an hour; just to get rid of some of this excess energy...yes I've got my alarm... Yes only for only an hour. Tell you what if I'm not back in an hour you can send the cavalry, ok? Ok. Yeah, you too. Bye."

Yanking her front door open she stepped out into the cool night air. It was completely silent, apart from the sound of cars far into the distance. London never quite slept. She locked her door and started off. First into a gentle jog and then she picked up the pace; at this rate she would end up at the park at 2. She could feel her heart racing and it was much too early to be caused by the running. Lily set her jaw and picked up the pace, she would not allow herself to fall into her fear. What was it her stepdad used to say? Being scared is ok, but don't fall for fear.

The entrance to the park came into view. She scanned the area; there was nobody in sight, not even a stray cat. As she came to the main gate, Lily paused, jogging on the spot, staring into the dimly lit park. She glanced at her watch; 1.55 A.M. She took one more look around and cautiously went through the gate. Her eyes darted at every slight movement and very nearly screamed when a pigeon swept low across the path,

"Bloody rats with wings."

Her trainers barely made any sound on the path that had been smoothed down over the years. So when she heard the snapping of a branch she instantly stilled. Lily glanced down at her feet, nope nothing there to suggest it was she who made the sound. She cautiously crept forward, eyes flickering back down to the path to make sure she didn't reveal herself. The path slowly curved round some bushes and as she reached the arc of it a soft whimper filled the air.

Lily ducked down, her heart pounding wildly as she tried to keep her breathing in check, it sounded so loud against the quiet night air.

"Quit your fucking whimpering! If you hadn't slept with her you wouldn't be here. This is all your fucking fault." The voice was distinctly male and cruel and cold. It was coming within the bushes, Lily slowly turned on the balls of her feet, making sure not press against the branches as she peered through them. Lying on the floor lay a terrified man, his suit rumpled and his hands up in a pleading gesture. Standing over stood the harsh spoken man with a knife in his hand. This would be the second time that Lily would do something completely beyond her and just like the last time she viewed it as though she were the audience and not the actor.

She crawled round the bushes so she was at the back of the attacker; she paused as she reached the opening of the circle and pulled herself to her feet. Lily knew she only had one shot of this; she had to make sure he was distracted. She peered round, he had grabbed hold of his victim's shirt and pulled him up slightly, the knife pressed dangerously close to his throat,

"Should have obeyed your wedding vows." He angled the knife to make the slice and then Lily sprung.

Using her whole weight, she threw herself forward and tackled the hooded man. She was vaguely aware of the knife flying out of his hand as they went through the bushes and landed upon the path. Her body jarred as her back impacted with the hard ground, the man was on top clutching at her hands trying to release her hold. Lily brought one of her knees close to her chest and then slammed it upwards. The man, winded slumped to the side and his body tensed.

Lily knew that she had to be quick there was no time for mistakes. Springing to her feet, she darted over to where he lay and pulled the hood from his face. She came face to face with a balaclava and startled blue eyes. She went to grab the edge and pull it from his face, hopefully revealing his identity. A firm grip on her wrist told her that wasn't going to happen. Lily tried to pull herself away but unintentionally helped him to his feet.

They grappled each other for a while, he was trying to force Lily back towards the bushes while Lily was attempting to anchor herself and knock him back to the floor. Lily had just managed to hook her ankle around his but he got to her first. A knee slammed into her side and her legs gave way. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying her hardest to breathe through the pain. Tears blurred her vision and she choked back a sob, it felt like her side was burning.

A gloved hand moved her hair from her face and Lily could just about make out the masked covered face.

"I'm sorry. It'll stop soon, I promise. Wait here. Help will be on the way." And with that he was gone. Lily managed to roll on to her knees, her lungs filling with blessed oxygen and she blinked away the tears. A flash of blue caught her eye; lying on the ground next to her was her phone. The screen showed that 999 had been dialled. He had used her phone to call for help. Why, would he do that?

Lily grabbed her phone and shakily pulled herself to her feet. A groan reminded her she wasn't alone. She spun back to the bushes and dropped to her knees next to him. His neck had been cut slightly and she applied pressure with her hand,

"Don't worry help is on the way."

The man sobbed,

"Thank you, oh god, thank you so much." Lily managed a weak smile.

"Right time, right place I guess."

The ringing of a mobile phone caused the smashing of a cup, which Sherlock had dropped rushing to answer it, which caused John to wake with a shout.

"Lestrade...new victim?...This one is alive...we'll be right there." John was pulling on a jumper as Sherlock yelled up the stairs.

"John! There's been another one! This one's alive."

"Figured there'd been a call," John pulled on his jacket and followed Sherlock out of the door, "Something different about this one? You seem more excited than usual." Sherlock grinned,

"There was a witness."

John jogged after Sherlock as he strode down the park path with his impossibly long legs. Thoughts had been crashing through his head since they left the flat, so much so, that Sherlock had told him to shut up, that he was thinking too loud. Yet he couldn't get his head around the witness and had told Sherlock such, big mistake.

"Well of course you couldn't John. Do try to leave that sort of thinking to me, you know how bad your headaches get." He would have received a punch in the arm for that if it hadn't been for the wink Sherlock had given after. He was beginning to learn how to soften his insults.

They marched straight over to Lestrade who led them to where two ambulances were stationed.

"Intended victim, no fatal injuries only a slight cut to the throat, caused when the witness tackled the killer."

"They took on an armed man?" exclaimed John, as a soldier, it would come naturally to someone like John, but a civilian?

"Yes, she did. But no surprise to be honest, once you see who it is."

In one ambulance they could see the man having a dressing applied to his neck and being informed that he would have to go to hospital. John could see that despite being extremely pale and very shaken he was alright overall. In the second ambulance John was startled to see Lily sat with wrapped up in an orange blanket; however Sherlock was more engrossed as to who was standing next to her.

"Mycroft. Decided to get out of that office of yours? Perhaps the night air may help with your metabolism."

Mycroft sniffed delicately,

"Nice to see you too Sherlock. I was merely checking up on Miss Harley, we grew quite concerned when she did not return after her run. Quite right to be concerned it would seem." Lily had a very fetching blush spreading across her cheeks,

"I'm fine. Just a bit bruised that's all."

"Suffering from shock too I see." Sherlock eyed the orange blanket darkly while John tried and failed to conceal a smile.

"What did the killer look like?" demanded Sherlock.

"Miss Harley could not give a full description to the killer, as he was unfortunately wearing a balaclava. He, however, got a good look at her. I think it would best if you had someone accompany you from now on Miss Harley," Mycroft motioned to Anthea, who replied with a slight nod, "At least until this man is captured."

"That's perfect!" They all gave Sherlock a startled look; except Mycroft who eyed his brother with a look of amusement and slight distaste.

"Out of the question Sherlock."

John glanced between the two brothers,

"What is?" He looked at Sherlock, "What are you thinking?" Sherlock was eyeing Lily with such a hungry look that she pulled the orange blanket around her tighter.

"Lily and I will go to the restaurant as a couple, on a night when all the suspects are there. Lily may not recognise the killer but he will know her. He will reveal himself by becoming panicked and attempting to remove himself from the restaurant."

"You mean use her as bait? Absolutely not Sherlock!" John pointed at Lily and stared at Sherlock furiously, "He could try and kill her Sherlock!"

"He could have killed me earlier." Lily glanced up at the three men and quickly averted her eyes back to her feet, "He had a chance to kill me and he didn't. So I'll do it." John sat next to her, his face full of concern,

"Lily, you don't have to, there are other ways."

"No, I want to. If taking a small risk gets a killer off the streets, then I'll do it." Sherlock clapped his hands,

"Brilliant! We have a few nights to rehearse before the suspects have a shift together. Miss Harley, I'll be at yours for 11 tomorrow morning, till then goodnight. Come along John."

John groaned at Sherlock's retreating back and ran a hand through his hair,

"Always about the bloody game." He offered Lily a small smile, "Being seeing you soon then I guess. Bye Mycroft."

"A pleasure as always John." Lily watched as John jogged to catch up with Sherlock and was startled when a hand came into her line of sight.

"If you're ready Miss Harley, I will escort you to the car." She timidly took his hand and allowed herself to be led to a town car.

"You need not worry about my brother, he may be quite eccentric but he will keep you safe." Lily started up at the elder Holmes,

"You didn't seem too keen on his idea at first." He gave her a small smile,

"I was not. But I have discovered that once Sherlock has his mind on something, it is most difficult to stop him."


	10. Chapter 10

Lily was to discover how true this was when Sherlock came round, at eleven on the dot. She answered still half asleep and her hair in disarray.

"You're not ready but never mind we can do it with you dressed like that." He marched past her and into the kitchen. Lily shut the door and hurried after him, watching bewildered as he started making them both tea.

"It'll only take me a few minutes to get dressed."

"No." He pulled two mugs out of the cupboard, "we need to make sure you are completely at ease with me when the night arrives. And what better way to get over inhibitions by starting off in barely any clothes. Now that's any idea."

Sherlock had already removed his long coat but shrugged off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. Lily spun around, a blush creeping over the bridge of her nose.

"What are you doing?"

"I believe it is quite obvious as to what I am doing but if you want to know why I'm doing it, then it only seems fair that we are both in a small state of clothing." Lily heard a zip being pulled down and she shut her eyes tightly and then clasped her hand over her ears.

"Nobody needs to be undressed! This is ridiculous!" She shrieked then her body tensed suddenly, "Oh god, I think the cameras on. Mark will never let me live this down." She jumped when she felt warm air at the back of her neck; she twirled round and was met with the sight of Sherlock's chest. Lily honestly couldn't believe she could go any redder. She forced her eyes to stay on Sherlock's face, which was showing every sign of amusement.

"This isn't funny," she scowled.

Sherlock moved back to the counter and carried on making the tea. Lily slumped down on one of the chairs and leant her elbows on the table. Then, despite at first being quite embarrassed, she eyed Sherlock's body. Slim and pale, everything she figured was right, but the one thing she wasn't expecting was the lithe muscles that were hiding beneath the suits. He obviously ran, a lot, but there was something else, she cocked her head slightly, trying to remember where she had seen bodies like that before. It was like a cross between a dancers and someone trained in martial arts.

"Fencing, mainly." Sherlock placed a mug in front of her and sat down in a chair opposite her, "The school that I attended believed that learning to fence would install discipline in us. I however have on found it useful when it came up during a case." He took a sip of his tea and smiled at Lily's confounded expression,

"You were thinking how my body looks the way it does. Yes, mainly running, and yes I do know some forms of martial arts, but fencing is the start of it."

Lily gave a quick nod and poured all of her interest into her tea. Did that mug always have a chip in it? Must have been there for quite a while, it was smooth, so not recent. She really ought to go shopping.

"Lily." She fought not to look at him and then conceded her blue eyes meeting his pale ones. He was assessing her, she could tell that much yet he seemed confused. Could it be that Lily had actually proved a mystery to Sherlock Holmes?

"You're embarrassed in showing your body to strangers and possibly even those who are close to you." Perhaps not then. Lily took a swig of her tea,

"Go on then, what's made you come to that conclusion?"

"You workout, that is obvious, you having nothing that would make the average woman uncomfortable about showing her body. You are toned, no cellulite, no stretch marks, no unwanted body hair," Lily spluttered on her tea and hastily pulled the hem of her t-shirt further down.

"Most people don't take care of their bodies unless they intend on showing them yet you do have one thing that people may question upon seeing. Your scars."

Lily eyed Sherlock coldly,

"They ask too many questions; questions that they don't need to know the answer to, at least not so soon in the relationship." He nodded in agreement.

"Yes people do. For example," he stretched out his long arms and lining the delicate skin were track marks. Lily moved as though to run a hand over them but pulled back, clasping her hands around her mug of tea.

"Yes, I took drugs. I will freely admit that yet people still want to know, what did I take? Why did I take them? What was my first hit like? Do I have diseases? Was it to do with my family? Did I sell myself to get them?" His eyes had gone cold and dark, "They had no reason to know such things."

He pulled his arms back,

"Lily, I will not pry into any part of your life that you do not want me in. I merely ask you try this with me. Capturing a killer depends on this going right." Sherlock looked genuinely sincere that Lily couldn't help but to nod,

"Ok, I'm with you."

The rest of the day was spent with Lily still in her pyjamas and Sherlock in his boxers, although as it got colder he did accept a t-shirt from Lily. They traded small stories, made up a story as to how they met so if anyone asked they could reply with ease. They borrowed things from previous relationships, mainly from Lily's so it would ring true. Lily revealed she was ambidextrous and what her tattoos meant to her. Sherlock told her of his first experiment and when he first realised he wasn't like other children.

When it came for him to leave, Sherlock and Lily held hands, he noticed that if he stroked her palm with his thumb her breathing seemed to become ever so slightly shallower. They walked to the front door and stood there for a while, facing each other.

"I'll come around again, tomorrow. We'll go through what to do at the restaurant; I'll teach you all the exits ok?"

"Ok, goodnight." Lily went to step back when Sherlock pulled her towards him and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"We're a couple remember. Goodnight Lily."

She stood there on the front step for a good few minutes after he left staring into the darkness in shock. She shook herself slightly then went back into the house. She picked up the two mugs when she noticed the vase of lilies was' no longer on the front window sill. Her heart pounded in her chest as she spun around the room trying to look for them, when a flash of white caught her eye. They were hiding behind the armchair. Frowning she placed them back where they were. Did Sherlock place them there? Oh god he knows!

"Don't be stupid. If he did he would have said something," she hissed quietly. She gave the lilies one last look before making her way back to the kitchen, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

The following day Lily was ready for Sherlock, clothed in simple skinnies and t-shirt she felt ready for whatever he would bring. At least she thought she was until when she let him he was waving a tape measure in her face.

"I need to measure you. You need a dress for the night and this restaurant is very particular about its dress code."

"I have dresses!" Sherlock pulled the footstool to the middle of the lounge floor; then flung his coat on the sofa.

"A proper evening dress? Most likely long in length, designer?"

"I'll buy one," she declared and marched to the kitchen to make the tea,

"Nonsense," Sherlock grabbed her by the arm and pulled her on to the stool, "You need a proper dress, trust me, we need to look as though we fit in there, so we don't warn the killer too early."

He whipped the measuring tape around her and jotted down the measurements on a scrap piece of paper. Yet Lily very nearly fell of the stool when he measured her chest, staring intently at the number on the tape.

"A little warning would have been nice," she grumbled as she stepped down.

"I doubt there is a nice way to warn someone that you are going to measure their breasts. If it's any help you have a very nice chest. Now, you were making tea?"

For the next three hours Lily had the entire outlay of the restaurants drilled into her head until she could list back all exits and tell Sherlock exactly where the kitchen was right down to where the upper store rooms were. She rubbed at her temples she could feel a headache starting.

"You don't need to know etiquette; you come from such a family that you would know that already. Now silk or cotton?"

"What?"

"For your dress Lily, do keep up." Lily let out what must have been her tenth groan of the day.

"Cotton I guess." Sherlock eyed at the sketches he had been making and shook his head,

"No, silk, it would look much better in silk."

"Are you determined to the decided on the opposite of what I decide?" Sherlock threw her a dashing smirk, till earlier today Lily hadn't known that smirks could be dashing.

"You look very adorable when you get riled up." Once again a groan filled the kitchen and Lily rested her head on the table,

"You don't need to flirt with me yet Sherlock."

"Yes I do, I need the practice, unlike you." Lily's head shot back up,

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

The use of her swear word caused Sherlock to glance back up at her,

"As I revealed to you yesterday I have not had many relationships and I only flirt when it comes to a case. So I need to practice when I can so it sounds naturally. I was not implying to that you give yourself away regularly." Lily snorted,

"Never heard it put that way before. You're forgiven then."

"Good," Sherlock pushed one of his sketches over to her, "What about this one?" Lily eyed the sketch thoughtfully. She had so far turned down all of his designs yet this one seemed to tick all the boxes. It was strapless but from what Lily could tell the neckline did not come down that low, the top layer of the skirt would be pinned up by Lily's hip and styled to look like a rose.

"I like it. This one definitely."

"Thank god for that. I figured we would be here for ages." Sherlock folded the sketch and placed it in his inner jacket pocket. "You have the back for it too." He pulled on his coat as Lily stared at him puzzled,

"I have the back for it?" A look of understanding came over her, "Is that dress bloody backless?" Sherlock started for the door,

"No time to talk about dresses Lily, things to be done. Same time again tomorrow, ok? Goodbye."

"Sherlock! Get your bloody arse back here!" The door slammed shut and Lily was left glaring at the place where he once sat.

"I'm going to bloody kill him I swear."

At that precise moment Sherlock was indeed thinking about doing the same thing, to himself. While he had done many cases which involved some flirting, going on an actual date was one thing he had never found himself in a position to do. He was quite out of his depth and did not have any data to fall back on. He needed John, which was how the poor doctor found himself being interrogated on his entire love life.

"Why would you bring someone flowers to a date? They would have no where to put them during the dinner."

"As I said Sherlock you would give them to her before you went to the restaurant giving her the time to place the flowers in a vase. I need a bloody cup of tea."

"Make mine a coffee," Sherlock skimmed down the list he had made, underlining certain things while crossing other stuff out.

"Ok, how about this?" he twirled the pen around his fingers, he wouldn't look out of place in film noir gangster movie mused John.

"A small bouquet of selectively chosen flowers and a piece of jewellery."

"Yeah, that sounds fine. But jewellery? Isn't that a little bit too much?"

"Nonsense!" Sherlock stood up, flinging the pen and list on to the sofa, and grabbed his coat, "On Father's first date with Mummy he bought her a broach; it shows what sort of taste the man has and reveals his income without being too forward."

"Sherlock, you're going on a single date for a case, not to start off a serious relationship."

Sherlock spun round to face a very confused and exasperated John,

"To maintain this facade I must do things as realistic as possible, so if that means buying Lily an expensive piece of jewellery then I shall do so. The killer may be watching her and she needs to go about her life as normal, and what is more normal then her new boyfriend taking her out on a date and buying her something. Now wipe that look of your face John, just because you find everything confusing doesn't mean you have to show it constantly." Sherlock had to hand it John, his reflexes and aim was still very much on form. He peeled the soaking dish cloth of his face and rubbed the water from his eyes,

"Very mature John."

The next couple of days felt like a week to Lily, multiple fittings for her new dress were fitted in every three hours, Sherlock would be sending texts, quizzing her on certain aspects and she had a hair and makeup appointment before the date began. Lily had never felt so rushed off her feet, so when Anthea arrived with a large coffee she practically jumped her. Anthea would freely admit later that was the first time she had been near to feeling surprised.

Two hours later and one hour before Sherlock was due to arrive Lily was waving the hair and makeup team goodbye and listened intently to some minute advice from Anthea before she too left. Lily slipped off the dressing gown that had kept the dress covered and finally allowed herself a look in her full length mirror. Her makeup was artfully done, they'd played up her eyes making them look large and doe like. Her hair was pinned up with a few delicate curls left loose, showing off the beautifully tailored backless dress to perfection. Lily had never felt so unlike herself. The doorbell shook her out of her reverie.

She managed the stairs in her heels and felt quite elegant as she walked towards the door. She pulled the door open and felt her breath leave her. Sherlock stood before her dressed in tailored black suit and a deep red silk shirt. The colour of the shirt brought out the ivory pallor of his skin and seemed to emphasise the shadows of his collar bone. Lily blinked startled when she wondered what he would taste like. She coughed, clearing her throat,

"My, and I thought I was looking ok."

"Lily, you are looking more than ok, you are looking divine." He leant forward and gave her the softest kisses on her cheek.

Lily gently moved to the side and allowed Sherlock entry, and grinned when he gave her a large bouquet of flowers with a dramatic flourish,

"Well this is unexpected," she gratefully took the flowers and let Sherlock close the door as she went to find a vase. She stared thoughtfully at the flowers and gently stroked one of the petals,

"An unusual mix of flowers," she mused. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Sherlock give her a small smirk,

"Indeed. Ever heard of floriography?" Lily smiled and finished off placing the flowers within the vase before turning back to Sherlock. She placed the vase on the table and pointed to one of the flowers,

"Double daisy, means enjoyment; amethyst violet means admiration; snowdrop means a friend in adversity, and this one here, bronze chrysanthemum, means trust me."

Sherlock watched as Lily came to stand before him, sat on the arm of the sofa he was eye level with her and wondered why he hadn't noticed before how her blue eyes seemed to change shade.

"I enjoy your company too, I'm glad you see me as a friend and I admire you too. I also trust you." Sherlock's face broke into a grin,

"You Miss Harley, I am very pleased to say, are full of surprises."

"I promise not to reveal that."

"Thank you. It would ruin my reputation if it were to be found out,"

"Ok. But I'm still going to blackmail with you it."

Sherlock shook himself visibly as though a thrill had passed through him,

"Life will get even more exiting with you around." Lily replied with a small smirk before turning round to reach for her wrap.

"Guess we ought to get going, table is booked for 6.30, right?" She pulled the cashmere wrap around her shoulders when a black velvet box came into her line of sight. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight and they flicked back to Sherlock.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Still held in Sherlock's hands, Lily gently opened the lid to reveal a delicate charm in the shape of a crescent moon on a silver chain.

"Oh Sherlock, it's beautiful." The surface off the moon was carved with Celtic knot-work and a lone diamond lay in its centre. Sherlock pulled the necklace from its resting place,

"Allow me." Lily turned her back to him and watched as the charm came into view as he fastened the necklace.

"Thank you." With a small smile Sherlock offered her his arm,

"Shall we?"

* * *

><p>I hope people are still enjoying this and I will get to hear any suggestions, or tips that you may have for me!<p>

This story was betaed by the lovely CraZyPshyChoLadY


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